Slowly but surely did your inflection soothe
Slowly but never surely did I move in close
.
.
.
There was never a need on the other side
Of boundaries and wire fences to stop my stride
With fields as wide as my tongue could spell
To run and to explore and to dig around
Wandering around, a bit confused and surprised,
Eyes wide open, yet Into my own grave, I soon fell.
No helping hand is offered for me to get out
Just a smiling stare to see me crawl back out
I am just as welcome now to see around
If I can but dare to stand your silence and its mocking sound
Even though I knew every single line in the palm of my hand
I now understood, one can never know every single grain of sand
Some graves you must first lie in
If the dirt above you want to tread in
Into your books I have now again entered
A few of your pages I too have now gathered
~ These few lines I don’t write on purpose
for the poem, never should disturb the prose ~
The days drowsiness finally crawled over the night
As your voice it started to fade into your breath
Silence was louder now with the sounds of your whisper,
and my voice it was betrayed by the the faintest of quiver.
A few metal pieces fell off the skin of my face,
and my heart on it left the slightest trace.
And with such inhibitions that I now leave behind
Sit down, that perfect line of yours first to find.
.
.
.
Slowly but never surely did my inflections soothe
Slowly but surely I did move in close.
organic!nsanity 