Unspoken confession.


Tears that fall from fingertips

brushed softly from my eye

like a lingering whisper

my heart can’t say goodbye.

Peacful protest was my standard

never let them see you bleed

but now I am left with burning eyes

and an echo of endless need.

What does a heart know that a mind does not

round and round the question goes

a secret that the soul can’t speak

and the spirit never shows.

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