Multiplied Subjected Submarines

What do you hear in thuds?
Do echoes whisper or shout?
Is your rudder river or wood?
How do you cope with tiny blurred circular windows?
And what does the water’s muffled sound say?
What is your most curious graved curious?
Do passing winds whimsical heal or hurt?
Is your moral being morally undoing?
How much must one muse to forget how to crawl?
And can I still cry for the wet of my paper?
What do you say when you aren’t asked a question?
Do you see like a cloud over people or like one way glass in your tiny circular window?
Is your pencil out of lead or your paper of lines?
How many times will your spine break?
And will you choose the magnifying glass or the blanket?
Will I forget to thud?
Should I shout it out or be gentle?
For my lies will no doubt spring a leak like wood?
Can I look away from what is outside my circle?
Or will high winds shout me back into the ocean?
Will I be or not?
Should I choose to pretend or lie?
For are tress in my way or me in theirs?
Can I crawl through choking darkness alone?
Or must I stand up to the trite night like a playful child?
Will it be such a bad thing to forget how to hear?
Should my thoughts throw away my eraser?
For is it my future or my present past deciding my history?
Can my heart handle the little flicks necessary to make a warm fire?
Or is it my dark blindfold and not an eternally torrential flame setting a light in my thuds?
Whatever you do don’t try and hear someone else’s thuds.
Don’t lean to close to the tide or you will fall into the echoe.
But jump into the waters that chase the razor edge and cut themselves on what’s new.
If you can’t find an outside then it may just be deeper inside.
Simply ignore voices outside of your naivety and listen to the inside unknown.
Whatever your problem many will be your enemies’ enemy of their own.
Don’t give them your aging face but the one the tree carved.
But also remember to hear others before they will ever touch your thunder.
If your thoughts are as the night then shoot the mornings reflection.
Simply dance in the black as a child in the sand and never worry about low tide.
Whatever time it may be lay claim to the longest line and resist the furious lightning.
Don’t allow the logic that reigns in your child to face their light.
But try never to confuse true light with moon light.
If you thud in sync then you’ve nothing to swim for.
Simply question your reason not to find which question is you.
Misguided ghosts pass under these lights with bags of books on backs of beggars,
Alone and Afraid watches as multi-coloured mislead leand their ears and humanity to the voice above,
And that voice whispers deep into the hearts of those that listen,
Alone and afraid hears but does not listen because she can hear the background,
Teacher has more than what she’s been given they have their classes glasses and books,
Walls lined with the words of the principle to principle the blank diversity,
Alone and afraid forgets how to read and finds words on her tongue,
Phantoms find no longer alone and afraid without sane and pity pity,
Whered my father go she’d asked and they pointed to the door over all grace and said no more,
No longer alone and afraid found that she could fly between her eyes into a world without glass,
No longer alone and afraid ripped from the world and tore apart her body to find the wings beneath,
Phantoms and ghosts horrified about the red shreds of dust in which she had abandoned hope of none,
Flying above and watching the scene just like the sun,
Life be driven into the hearts of the heartless,
But that doesn’t mean when the graduate they still don’t climb down into their own submarine the same moon.