I try to speak my mind,

But is there no difference between a compliment and a homocide?

Quiet shaves away at erradicated emotions,

My acne scraping when whips are creasing my flesh.

My silence is the scapegoat of my passion,

My silence is the ebony smoke puffing from the Hess gas plant downtown,

My silence is the inability to see the potential within a world that hurts itself,

        My silence is what speaks for me.

 

When I see polution in the air, 

I think of how I'll tell the government

nature suffers from our industrial systems, 

How wheat grows plentiful until the crops are chopped away,

How the waves that peck the shoreline speak through mist as they cough up tin cans,

How I cry in the four-by-four staring through glass at a sky as blue as me.

I'll tell someone that I'm hurting like a cherry tree sliced from it's life.

If no one listens, then why look for the sound of the falling tree?

And when no one hears, why speak?

 

Say that I am beautiful, and I'll shoot you with a bullet,

My gun is censored, and my eyes have perfect aim.

Let me glare at your words as they wipe against my face,

Let me speak the tiniest bit of my thoughts in your blood through a needle,

I'll take the soapiest suds and smear them on your lips to let your mouth taste the damage

Because you had your chance to fill the lull, 

and it's not my fault that you cut it with a thumb tac.

 

My mind is eroding into the industrial world,

The corporate setup that mind washes into routine.

I try to speak my mind against the grain of my black trousers,

But the real world is what refrains the verses and then the chorus.

I try to speak my thoughts

     But since no one listens,

I write them down word by word trusting someone will read them.

 

2014, Brandon Robert