A perpetual lift, and a turn inside my stomach
Relieves my active mind. I am afraid
Of every speech within my brain designed
To hurt that hidden part of you that wants
The best of me before I have that piece
From you. Every little soldier is made
Believing he's a full grown man
And born to fight: your army will not lose
As long as there is war. Waves will crash
On all your favorite beaches. You have no books
To still the ranks who shred the pages
There are some holy threads of yarn no hands
But yours will bend to cloth. Repeating this truth
One hundred twenty times each day makes idle
Those hands that might work some miracle
So I ever fear my tongue, and lie
By locking down in chambers of sounds and silence
Hurricanes and thunder to crack your smile.
If we only knew. We rip the dreams
To shreds, pick them out, and carefully destroy
The very last one, until Hope, Love
Birth, Desire and the opposites stand up
Face to face; we stand there too
And each fights the other to the end.
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