I Couldn't Burn the Ocean

Confiding through walls:

the birds and their dreams—

but the night hushes heresy.

Their hearts are humble now.

Screaming behind blank masks;

swallowing snakes with sealed eyes,

their acquiescence was their sin.

Their souls are silent now.

Repeating the prologue

by burning the book,

wandering within the margins.

Their minds are myopic now.

Tainting the sea tears,

feathers fluttering around.

Together to flee too far today?

Never, my truths are tired now.