Earnest and forlorn, they crave for your eye,
Like the struggling wings of caged birds.
Yet, the thoughts pondered over, a hundred times
Never sound the same, put into words.
Sometimes for the better, we go with the worse,
The choice of being lauded, over being heard.
Unsure, I build courage, on the edifice of doubt,
The reason all it sounds is mumbles and shouts.
Like muted speech under water, rings the silence of those,
Time and again, unheeded, which sunk so low,
The ardent thoughts that only wished for the aid of sound,
Lost a chance in time, never to be found.
Sometimes the caged birds yearn to be free,
And the hinges crack open to reveal, a path unheard-of.
But tilting the knob is where the nerves start to show,
For what follows, sunlight or storm, there’s never a way to know..