There are days when I can’t hear myself
A wistful art of squashing voices
Hush-hush is what I say to the whispers
How difficult it is to face these storms
A wistful art of squashing voices
I have mastered
A distance well maintained at all costs
From the hurting choking emotions
Hush-hush is what I say to the whispers
Of my heart
Why would I take the trouble to listen?
I can still hide the blisters, can’t I?
How difficult it is to face these storms
Let the sky pour down crimson
Let the eyes turn arid and sandy
A promise to meet self, but first let the rain run out of water
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