Wednesday, January 4, 2012

tell me

tell me,
what are those butterflies in front of my eyes,
tell me is it my turn to die,
for they won't open
as hard as i may try.

tell me,
whose fingertips i feel when i hold my hand out,
tell me if anyone can hear me shout,
or does nobody care enough
to break these walls of doubt.

tell me,
whose silence it is that i hear,
when i put my hands to shut my ears,
or is it just my own voice
clammed shut with fear?

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