I tried, tried to shelter the silence,
but these voices feel they need to...

Here, I am the little prisoner,
hunched over a cherry wood table...

In my mind, a perfectly versed masterpiece
glowing with optimism, waits for my acceptance...

To be alive, to know we are here despite nature's...
groaning and persuading us to prepare our stout...

One act of kindness,
though miniscule...

Listening to compositions no one has
rehearsed or heard before...

I have exiled crimson sunsets,
extinguishing any newfangled flames...

You captured the grace of stars,
storing their luminescence in the basement...

Looking within,
I am blinded...

While I was gone, you wrote a letter titled...
I was not aware that on the edge of tomorrow...

Change- in combat with morals,
not always designed to win...

They're not the beautiful voices of mythology
who trap sailors with sweet cadences, no...