Hearts Voice
Hearts Voice
Sitting down with pen and paper
has become to me a need.
In the shadows of my room
where my soul can quietly bleed.
Not searching for some sympathy.
I need not be loved or hated.
I do not share my broken heart
so I can be validated.
Still so often I admit
when there's uttered not a word.
I feel some sorrow calling
in the silence that is heard.
Did I bring up some old memory
when your world was torn apart?
Did I open up that nasty wound
from a long time broken heart?
Did I miss it by a mile?
Did I not come close at all?
Or like a stone dropped from a rooftop
did the words from my heart fall?
Is there anybody listening?
Is there one somewhere to care?
Whether happiness or sorrow
hidden in the words I share.
No matter if I'm all alone
I seem to have no choice.
The words I write on paper
have become my own hearts voice.
Edwin C Hofert
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