And is
There
Anything worth
Living for
That is not worth
Fighting for?
You sat in
The crowd
Of those
Who you knew
Only
Very little,
And spoke very
Little
To anyone
About.
You feared
That you're
Quiet
Trembling
Voice simply
Added to the
Din of the
Earth
And that
Your sentences
We're
A simple
Waste
Of
Oxygen
Which you did not wish to
Let go
Of.
You dared not
Sing
For what
Is a small
Canary in
Comparison to
A choir of
One thousand
Others.
Your insecurities
Were as
Silent
As your mouth
And as suffocating
As the
Limits
Of
Space.
And your
Mind wished to
Be
Free.
But
It
Could
Not
Escape
It's
Prison.
