A thousand birds are fluttering in my throat,
Each one a message or a silent note.
The gate is locked, the key is thrown away,
Leaving the heavy things I cannot say.
I find a sentence, sharp and bright and true,
But swallow it before it reaches you.
The "how are you" is just a hollow shell,
For all the stories that I'll never tell.
My mind is crowded like a busy square,
With secrets hanging in the heavy air.
I wrap my feelings in a coat of stone,
To walk the crowded path completely lone.
Is it a fear of being misunderstood?
Or hiding parts that are not "great" or "good"?
The loudest screams are those that make no sound,
Deep in the silence where the truth is found.
I build a cage of commas and of sighs,
To hide the lightning flashing in my eyes.
One day the lock will rust and break apart,
And flood the world with everything in my heart.