The Language of Silence

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
To speak with the hands...

Submitted: April 08, 2008

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Submitted: April 08, 2008

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You ask me all these questions

Throughout the night and day.

And you see an imperfection

When my mouth speaks out like clay.

 

It’s not because I have no answer,

It’s not because I don’t care.

But when you give me the chance to speak,

Our connection begins to tear.

 

Don’t ask me what is wrong with me

Because I’ll have no answer.

Ask the doctors, they’ll say,

“She just might have some cancer.”

 

Please realize that I can hear you,

My hearing has no fault.

My fingers and my hands do speak,

My voice guides them from its vault.

 

Here is where my story ends,

And if you want to ask you may.

I will answer them the best I can,

But really, what more is there to say?


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