August 30th, Year of Silence

Nothing sinks faster than a wish tied to unrequited love. Bad poems fill pages with weight. I cannot put down the book, though it makes my fingers ache and crack. And I will not look away from the blurred horizon. The sun does not rise or set. It stays in a fixed position. It mocks as it burns.

A home can be a whole world. It is safe without mountains and tempestuous seas. Not everyone was born with a compass and boots.
Inside the walls, drastic measures and bold pledges are not necessary. There are no expectations that will see me shatter, as I fall off their great heights.

But I have no home, as I have no room to complain about anything. A protest is not a substitute for action. It is nothing beyond repeated words, that quickly lose meaning and an audience.

August 30th, Year of Silence

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