Lost in Translation

3701891411_966e78cba7

What happens when, a man
would rather be angry, even vengeful,
than to admit the frailty of fear?
What happens then?
There is no bravery or courage in fear,
nor in anger, but at least fear fueled rage
yields results. The smell of burning minds,
and the fear has no traceable scent.
The meek and the timid scatter like spilled
porcelain dolls not secured on their shelves
of voyeuristic importance.
No more glass eyes watching with poker faced
and emotionless intrigue.
What if  there was no more to watch?
The doll’s eyes can be removed, and they can be
put back in thier coffin like boxes.
All they will hear is the muffled like mumblings
of those who see with clarity, speak in present tense,
but that is all they will have; distant conversation’s heard.
All because a man that would rather be angry than afraid,
would rather keep his collection of buried
glass eyed stoic faced fragile collections,
boxed, hidden, and
in the dark.

Advertisements

One thought on “Lost in Translation

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s