We shout into the wind
And expect the wind to shout back at us,
And the darkness it screams
Before we realize it's our lungs that screech.
If only the objects of our rage
Were clear as words on a page,
But we shout into the nothingness
Because nothing alone is the cause of our stress.
Empty screams falling on deaf ears that cannot hear,
Mute replies coming from mouths that cannot shout,
And invisible strings we tie together
In hopes that our pulleys would feel better.
We rage against the day and the night.
We rage and raise our voice,
But all we hear is the sound of our own noise.
We shout into the wind,
And the wind replies in silence.
YOU ARE READING
Simply Poetry
PoetryA collection of poems by Sean Arturo Last. You are encouraged to leave your interpretations in the comments. -- © All Rights Reserved (No unauthorized copy, distribution, transmission, or alteration of the work.)
