needling Silence stifles struggling Reason
Fury sees its chance to unfurl
Wrath sees its path cleared
Rage becomes reborn.
is there ever
a day that goes by
that tears do not fall from the burdened eye?
A stony front
to seal its bleeding cracks.
no words are spoken without full thought, or so pretense vainly suggests.
mute yet struggling
astute yet mumbling
trying yet fumbling
to be heard.
This is powerful. The divisions intrigue me.
It was born as a whole poem, but i thought it was stronger read in parts. =)
Take care, Que
Thank you so much Eric for you appreciation and comments, as always so grateful for your guidance and thoughts =)
I also meant to say – you presented the emotions with elegance
Wonderful choice of words Que – I love this 🙂