My tears are shaped like words
When everything goes well
Only on my pages
Is where the thing with feathers fell

No one ever notices
And there’s none I’ll ever tell
That I was ever feeling this
When everything goes well


Can I fret on your behalf?
If I promise not to be a bother
And break the silence that has come between us
Can I sit and cry and wonder
If you’re doing alright?

Can I wish you little grief
And still be pained by the contrast
If I maintain this course I’ve chosen
And tell only the wind
“I wish you well tonight”?


I can’t battle the presumption
Carried in my words
That I’m not a channel for destruction
That I’m not better left unheard

I can’t drown out little whispers
Wearing my own voice
When I always chose my battle’s victors
And it was never the right choice.


Well I can disapprove
But what’s that mean to you?
We both will never move
So what then can I do?
I bite my tongue and let your voice
Become the leader in our chorus
Pretending that I have no choice
Knowing that it’s all an ouroboros.

Policy of Truth

Am I supposed to tell you what I’m thinking
When what I’m thinking is a sin?
Am I supposed to be so very honest
When everything is caving in?
I have seen the price of honesty,
And no commandment not to lie;
Perhaps what I’m supposed to do
Is leave the truth of me to die.


It should be noted that I am one who has, on occasion, blurted things out without properly weighing them first; and not as a result of any pressure, or what people told me I was “supposed” to do, but because I personally feel it is right to be truthful. It’s just not always smart.


My life is a chain of promises broken
And of the ones that I kept, I gave no sign or token
So as I think of the tree and the silence unbroken
I’m expecting to hear, “Your heart must be oaken…”