Some queries bloom with hidden fire,
A yearning vivid, a strange desire.
What words to find, I pause and stray,
What should I say? I wonder, pray.
It is a phantom knock upon the door,
The same closed latch I faced before.
I dare not turn the lock, lest I embrace
The cold, familiar sting of lost grace.
No lie I wish to tell, nor truth unfold,
No whispered secret, brave or bold.
Then guide my tongue, I urgently plead,
How can I answer this pressing need?
That hoped-for future, it may never be;
All seems quite normal, outwardly.
But who can truly know what is real,
The deep, disguised emotions that we feel?
When fate's hard lot was shared across the land,
Ah, where was I? I fail to understand.
Why did I miss my portion, friend so dear?
Where is the fair share I deserve to hear?
Who holds the keys to answers I must know?
I send my ache out, yet no winds blow.
Only the hollow silence gives reply,
Beneath the ever-watching, endless sky.
The constant clockwork ticks, relentless, fast,
A gentle chime that whispers, "This shall pass."
My silence holds a kindness, and no heart
Will splinter, knowing its fractured part.
Let it stay quiet now, and let it rest,
Deep in the shadow, hidden in my chest.
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