Aug 05, 2008 10:44
I wonder what it's like to be mute.
To not say those hurtful things
To not have made two hearts break
The red line cleanly cut
Words kept within
To stew and simmer
Before it's served
Perhaps it's for the best
That my mouth gets sewn
Let the blood flow
As thread and needle dance.
It's done at last
The seal is inked
Perhaps it's for the best
Isn't it for the best?
Oh.
Come forth my foolish child
Be a jester in my court.
poem