Pen at standstill

The parchment flutters.

Every gust,a stoic urge

Goading thoughts to broadcast words.

Compliance of mind,yet heart defiant

The unspoken chorus,translated to a soprano

Going after an adrift purpose,

When the race runs opposite

Criticism becomes staple

And the grapevine not far behind.

Is the meaning worth the listening ears?

Is it worth the jeering vitriol?

How does one explain the value of things deemed worthless?

How does one smile when the eyes speak?

What if, the heart was never defiant?

Would that have meant peace?




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