Village Idiot Publishing (C) 2000 diary of a Spirit
ANGUISH
The inward silence of anguish,
Oh how it waits to destroy.
Pain and sorrow, that will not end,
And yet it cannot speak.
Endless nights of torment, which never go away,
If only their thoughts could be heard,
I wonder what they'd say.
But no one hears, and yet they persist,
Until the end destroys.
If there was once a time, when it was not there,
It was a time of old.
When the inner man, could speak out freely,
With a voice, which was loud and clear.
But life is but a vapor, which quickly passes by,
And man no longer hears the truth;
But seeks to hide it all.
But his anguish that is deep inside,
Is there where all can see.
And even though, it corrupts, and destroys,
He will not confess that it's there.
I sometimes see a little boy,
Who refuses to break down and cry,
And though he longs to let it out,
He keeps it deep inside.
He wishes that they were all like him,
And new love as he does.
But he dares not speak, of pleasant things,
Or reveal his inner self.
Why is it this way? He thinks to himself,
Have they all gone truly mad!
Why do they hate, and love to lie,
Surely they can't be this way?
But deep inside, he fears the worst,
That they just can't see the truth,
And it brings him pain to live a lie,
And act the way they do.
And anguish drives him to the edge,
And he waits, for the day of truth.
When they, will finally pass away
And he can be himself.