The Silent Ones

Worth it

Lets say
That hypotheticaly
You steal a book
Its just sitting there
below your finger tips
Small
and leather bound
and easy.

So you take it
A quick slip of the hand under your coat
And you dissapear
Incospicuous
Uncatchable
Daring
Wrong

See you think you just took a book
But what you really took
Was a key
To a door
A car door maybe
Because years down the line
The tiny, stolen, leather bound books
Start to pile up
And that thing you joked about stealing
Starts to nag you
Like a bad rash
And you cant help but thinking
"Who's really hurt?"
"Who can blame me?"
"Who can stop me?"

But after the car maybe the key
Becomes a key to someones home
Some little brats front door lock
Some good for nothing rich family
Who has just as many
leather books as you
But they didnt have to steal theirs

"Who can blame me?"
"Who can stop me?"

But lets take a step back
Maybe thats not what happens
Maybe you get caught the first time
A hand clasps your wrist
And whether you know it or not
Your freedom is choked to death
By a pair of handcuffs
And a gray jump suit
Maybe you're young
Maybe your mom cries
at the back of the court room
Pleading "mercy on my child"
Or maybe she kicks you out
Tells you never to come back
"No child of mine"
Maybe you live your life
Never being able to accept the gifts
That people give to you
Even gifts like
Friendship
Love
Mercy
And you never really figure out
What caused you to be this way
Because you were just a kid
And kids do things they shouldn't
And everyone will forgive them
But themselves

Not that either?
How about this
Maybe you get lucky
You steal the book
And it stays a book
And it stays one
And you never have to steal again
Because what you really stole
Was a reckless freedom
That few can find and manage to keep
Maybe you stole back your childish wonder
The wonder that sprouts from late night ghost stories
And running the streets at dawn
Maybe all you really took
Was a key to a world of quiet chaos
Let's say that you get so lucky
That you don't even have to steal the book
Maybe you buy it and go home
And feel pleased that it's yours and you didn't have to loose yourself to gain it
And maybe you're able to write your name in the book and your thoughts fill up the pages and when you die your children pull it out from the dusty drawer you forgot it in and they gain something too.

And maybe there was never really a book
And maybe it wasn't a book at all
But you had a choice anyways
And you get to decide if you'll risk making it.
If you'll risk taking it.