And suddenly we're all playing
A game of Truth or Dare.
So mature, I know right?
Well anyway, I turned the timer
A small, cheap sand one
Because we've all forgotten
Our phones, yet again.
And I see the grains that filter
Through the confines of the plastic.
Everyone's voices blurred,
A strange sort of amnesia-haze
Crowded my peripherals, and I was
Completely caught in the flow,
Random yet deterministic?
A strange sort of impulse overcame me.
Actually, it would be more accurate
To say that I was possessed, and if
I were, what would that make me?
Probably not better than anyone
Who gave into possession
Just as I did, because I flipped
Or maybe the timer did. I can't tell.
And it's so weird seeing each grain of sand
Somehow make it through,
Because if I were there, I'd probably
Get sick from tunnel vision,
The small taunts of light
That the sand manipulates so easily
But I remain as stupid as ever,
Because I would give in. I'm not a
Pushover, just someone who would
Rather throw the towel in
Than put up a fight. On second thought,
I think that means that I am a pushover.
Well, you learn something new everyday?
And so I, with my somewhat fickle self,
Decide it wouldn't be half bad to
Be a grain of sand in a timer,
But then I notice it.
A small blue coloured speck
That's left hugging the sides
To try and make up for lost time.
"Are you playing?"
YOU ARE READING
Silence in the Walls
PoetryThis is for those who lost or found their voices. This is for those who could and could not breathe. This is for anyone who is stuck or escaped the dismal abyss of all-consuming emptiness. This is a reminder; a representation of the hardships we co...
