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  • Writer's pictureGarathe Den

The Library

I could be quiet

And never write a story

Let them collect in my mind

Like a secret library

A labyrinth encased

To an endless inquiry

Where one shadow roams

With the Spirit of Glory


But what fun would that be

To be in peace and in solace

Knowing the world still collapses

By embracing false promise

Knowing they never heard words

That were preached, being honest

While in my mind there's a torrent

Always churning in conquest


Life is so much better

In a mind that imagines

Of the endless possibilities

Full of love and compassion

Now reigned into terrors

Full of anthems and famines

Where war is a constant

Bombardment of cannons


Outside of condition

Outside of control

Not afraid to step out of

The only box you have known

Not afraid to make life

Rather then accepting a role

Indoctrination abandoned

For the thrills of the soul


I've held onto these writing

Held onto these thoughts

Always doubting the audience

And accepting the loss

And the time that has past

Makes me wonder the cost

I've been hiding so long

That I feel the exhaust


Now it's time I repent

For the terror I've felt

I know that I am to blame

For the hand that I've dealt

Censored my writings

Censored myself

Speaking my heart

To all of these empty shelves


Beating alone

All covered in dust

Longing to share

What I didn't trust

Caught in despair

Caught in disgust

Tongue clenched in silence

From speaking what's just


There's no time like the present

And what can I say

Life is as long

As the brief of the day

May never find comfort

May never get praise

But at least I took steps

Where I once held delay


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