The sea wells up, the cages constrict
Surrounded by white noise
I am deaf and I am blind
To the 100 needles stabbing into me
It squeezes. Releases. Squeezes. Releases.
As though I’m a criminal and
Them the interrogators
As though giving love is such a crime —
I’m bound for the execution grounds
Are young buds to be killed
Though they may grow into weeds?
Should love be considered love
If they elicit anything but love?
With a final squeeze the cages crush
And though the young bud knows of it’s eventuality
It chose to lock itself in solitude and throw away the key
And though it’s growth was short-lived
It cherishes the minute happiness that came along with it.
My heart skips. My heart stops. My heart crashes.
You bear in silence, suffer in silence, and therefore will ultimately die in silence too.
” Come on skinny love just last the year, pour a little salt we were never here. My, my, my, my, my, my, my, my, staring at the sink of blood and crushed veneer. ” – Skinny Love, Bon Iver
Tell me what’s going on in your mind — why won’t you let me understand?