A cry goes out
but no one hears
The Act is almost
done, no tears
But then another cry
That stops the Act
before the end
And so it goes on
These are the pages between the sheets of our lives
Blank. Black. White. Dirty. Torn. Cornered. Folded. Plied.
These are the lives that we limit to live
These are the cries that we’re frightened to give
These are the days that we count on our clocks
How soon will it be before it all stops?
© Glad the Poet 2020