Punctuate

by

It's the secret dying to come out, the burning wishes we construct.

The silence of the world is in our minds, let it out to grow. God knows

you have it, disperse this gravitation in volcanic expansion.

We vote for strangers to go out and spread our concocted

words...burning the crowd against the walls. Remember the iron curtains of

sadness, oppression...the story of falling dominoes. The sand man only

brings our dreams in passion...keep the flames alive.

There before our babies, our message...passed in hope again to move

forward our taunting lies...concocted by strangers in the white houses

covered in vines to keep our eyes from terror.

The terror of it all...faded into omnicolor tainted screens of all

three media giants...our friends. Our friends that control by cameras, the

stories come out again in fiction.

So let it come out again...the freedom of our heart and mouth, what we

thought was right, screaming in the streets in fear. Your heart races and

mouth waters at the thought of such freedom...animalistic and weird. But

somehow we forget it's written on the yellowed paper encased...closed in as

if it's an ancient relic of the past...

We're nice and neat like the language,

stealing from our minds.

NEXT?
Why don't you look at Danny Boy
by: Hay Machine
from: Dublin, Ireland

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