The Unspoken Words
mum my lips, lifted like storm
show me the window and shall be
there to cry
move like cripple dung, shape that
smell foul, not a game to play
but gain to paint
oh! tell me and reveals what is real
nothing comes easy in the dust to play
paddle those canoe, for even the
wind brings dirt to rest
hold on each moment, the scattered
voice murmurs the wind and settles
down to lie...
poem by Antonio Liao
Added by Poetry Lover
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