Unspoken Art
Black Prince
i need to be tutored to your silent mutiny
i see your mute rebellion is disheveling
the powers that be, though far from loud
and i see too that you need new ears
for your uprising to fall silent upon
learn sign language, read minds with your palm
these exclamations are unheard of
your deaf threats will not go unnoticed
rest your eyes, your incessant glares
don't impress the sky
you've tested my patience and failed
torn a hole in my penmanship
i fear i can't replace the sails
yet i still chase ways to get down
with your silent uprising
trying to balance my time
without dissapointing the cause
the tipping point is gripping my heart
as i await the chips' descent
in attempt to have my voice heard
under this lip zipped dissent
but the silence is drowning me
drinking the noiseless voices
the passion of the masses
bounces off the walls
every account drumming in my ears
as i plummet for fear of discovery
i let out an offering
to this silent communion
communicating in ways unimagined
my pride becoming unfastened
trapped in the crossfire
of this silent action...
You're breaking the mold, daring difference
Our relationship began sweet
and soured up until the bitter end
i've written ten fold about this mute madness
sending telepathic love taps
cutting the tension without uttering a sentence
trapped in an invisible box
unable to speak with the elephant in the room
i think i've gone nuts
now my metaphor is eating at me
every near word misleading my train of thought
i wonder if you'll break the silence
thus far it's been handled with care
you've fought for the cause, and that's rare
and now we stare, eyes embraced
my mind is racing
and it's taking it's toll, listen!
now you've gone and claimed poll position
you control the arena, without even a sigh in the wind
you begin crying then, a victorious gladiator
lost upon exiting the lions den
you've claimed your prize
a sentence or two
maybe more, i wait dejected for what you have in store
and yet you serve to suprise
silent uprising has won your gun
weapon of choice being a word
and yet for me you have none
funny how the first cut is the deepest
and i was the one up in arms
you stood and left me to the empty canvas
of our unspoken art
1luv.
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