A Town With No Sound
Visions of strips of clouds in wornout towns
People walking through them making rounds
Sadness in their faces only frowns
Silence on their voices not a sound
Movements muffled growing softness not a vibration round
From underground roots pull them down and down
Within the air moods chill them without bounds
Light glimmers barely flickers brightness drowning out
Darkness showing over flowing flooding through the town
Sight extinguished no overcoming its taken what its found
Molding likeness forming lakes of wrong to righteous
Reflecting from deep inside us blinding what we know of trust
Devouring selfwill always following close behind us
A shadow on our backs to constantly remind us
A chill down our spine to regularly rewind us
That beat in our heart that firmly defines us
That rage in our eyes that seeks to defy us
The race for the prize that overcomes choice
Which results in the town of the people without voice
Copyright © Eric Sullivan | Year Posted 2011
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