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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required I close my eyes and it isn't dark enough. Maybe a heart's confessions lost their bluff; If my sight sees what these ears hear and some of this mind believes what my soul tries and fears to trust, Then every night, when there's nothing there, wouldn't the fairest dealing claim this sightseeing must be a type of brightness that keeps me up? Yet I can't see a thing. I can't find a pairings touch; I can fire an apparent smudge on the cost of the neighboring silence as it is not indebted to us but to the strangers, fairing into a lament of that disparaging Kitty Genovese luck; A parable debunked with effects as real as desire's touch; Bystanders helping victims By standing as witnesses to judge. We do what we do and we think it's enough While we forget to look through this window of blue, hued upon the world we like to love. It can be your mask, where truth can clear your lungs. Evidence of the worth our world tasks you to keep on fighting for, til a comfort absorbed comes through those with throats that have grown worn; Imagine who then has the chance to speak up. It won't be a different way of seeing this setup; They pitch more innings inheriting more who run, Ditching responsibility of the inherent sinning, To bask in the progress of what couldn't be without the sun. Of what couldn't be done. Of what can always become. I'll agree there may be much more than I can think there ever was; Blind men don't have worlds to give up. I'll open my hands and hold your wars, letting go of any blessings poured on my instincts until they're numbed; Forfeiture matching heart beating drums, Constant and felt, pressured and shunned. If it were to pay back the sum of everything I've been given everything I wish for others to love Freely, without a thought, I'd give it up. So is it a corrupted brain I have or a selfless appreciative tongue?
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