I have not a word for the dream I believe in,
No wing for the prayer that I pray,
No note for my heart, as it’s desperately beating,
No voice for the lines I would say.
I know not what to do with emotions that plague me,
That feverishly rupture the night,
That carelessly burn through the hours of sunshine,
With shadows that torment the light.
For locked in a tower of life’s own design,
Held in by a tempestuous sea,
My muse lies wanting on a cold stone ground,
With no power to set itself free.
Jagged rocks break the waves on the beach far below,
Dragon wings chop the breath of the air.
While up in the tower my muse bound and gagged
And helpless, lies silently there.
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