can you see?

no one can hear the crying

what if i were to tell you
that your secrets
are who you are

all the ways we act leave one
intriguing question, what are we?
and further whats our worth?

all the suffering, all the sorrows

don't ask whats real
for thats when imagination
mixes in

imagine a bottle, boiling
and filled with words, tiers, smoke, acid and flames
the bottle is you, every last one of you
you don't see this but i do

words, so clumsy
are not your friends
words, oh how they start others talking
slowly pushing cracks in your into your shell

squishing out all the air
that which we need so much to live
lest you learn another way

feed off of what makes others who they are
steal their air
and repeat, and repeat, and repeat.

but this stolden air
makes thoughts starved
and until you learn to breath
on your own once more,
thoughts shall never grace thee