Unspoken
I defeat my own purpose by not moving my mouth
And when it does come to me I cower… like a mouse
Silent words cascade down to the flour
Grasp for my hand and turn the ripple into a roar
Help me speak the words I have chosen
For they are the elite of and exquisite decorum
Yet to my surprise you don't grasp or reach,
But watch me drowned in my own defeat
Maybe you didn't see me extend my fingers
Or maybe you don't lend hand to the beggars
Either way doesn't matter, for I drowned in my own sorrows
The words left unspoken will remain till tomorrow.
By, James Levy
1/29/97 a.b./k.m.
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