The voices unspoken by the living
are the breath of the dead.
They shake like rose petals,
in the breeze.
And break.
Buried under time and lost words.
Kept inside,
suffocated by the unknowing.
Freedom is lost,
every waking moment.
At the cost of the unspoken.
 


Comments




Leave a Reply

    Picture
    Like the writing you see here?

    Check out our literary magazine, Masquerade to see more!

    Click the envelope at the top of the page to send us an email!

    The cost is 8$, but we will cover shipping to anywhere in the US!