Steven
Softly stirring in the night
No known presence left to be
Commanding voices call out below
Cries of agony cries of pain
I want to die, I can’t contain
That which I must tell
From below writhing in pain
My blood cries out to you
No word was said in hate
Seldom a word said in love
Art of betrayal takes it’s hold
Small actions speak volumes
For what is yet to be said.
Nameless faces no where in site
Yet all around me I feel them
Bearing down upon me
Yelling, screaming at me to run
Yet I sit, and wait, like hunters’ prey
Completely oblivious to my demise.
He lurks in the dark places
So as not to be seen by me
Afraid, yet more courageous than most
Every word spoken more deceptive
Every action more deliberate
Knowing full well the perils and pain
Still she returns to him never learning.
From below writhing in pain
My blood cries out to you
No word was said in hate
Seldom a word said in love
Art of betrayal takes it’s hold
Small actions speak volumes
For what was never said.
-Isaac DeLeon 2002
