Dissenting Voices

The torture gathered by the voices of deceit

Lost my visual perception within the sounds of the deep

Very next to my soul under the breaths of my lungs and the thumps my heart beats

Where mysteries lie in the truths we all seek

Now where is this going?

No questions, no guessing, nobody's knowing

Something sinister in the mist where everyone is throwing

Thoughts collide under the hopes that possibly we're growing

Short waves tell a path of telepaths for the fortunes we craft in disaster's showing

Where do we land from the crash, is this love or is this wrath

The distorted confusion paralyzes the paralyzed with more pain than is televised

Nothing is as it seems so much for the nightmare that started off as a dream

Mere moments that have passed and virtually destroyed the precipitous of an uncrowned king

Visions we cherish along with the good times that we cling

Hostilities arise in the ambitions of fiends

Who’s going to save these souls?

A script is written for no man to play the role

An undesired effect its Author perpetuates so the prospective lost in the fold

Casualties of a minor calamity stricken with partially realized goals

Seductive crimes that aches hearts until grief finds its toll

First came a gesture from Heaven's width that bled out the abyss buried within

Seeping outward until the tunnel vision blinded foes and reminded friends

Souls and sore eyes might have sight like bitter sweets have its revenge

Silhouettes play joyfully to the tunes of their sin

How can we let go?

More answers to questions we didn’t know

Or was it questions we had and just didn’t know...No?

Guessing at the epithet my version of lost regret

Found my shield to guard myself and inoculate my pride from the threat

 What do you protect in this societal veil?

Stories are televised but the news is not what they tell

Which was it that felt like beating life?

146 beats per minute stored on the shelf

Never to see the pain that you felt

Hidden again because the truth was hot enough to melt

No drug to assuage the death, missing an infants’ laughter

And haunted from its missing breath

No pictures, no first steps

No mom or mother or father no body wept

Just abortion and another murder that we all accept

At night the haunted pages of your memory torment the sheets where you slept

A planned mistake has its neglects

Maybe we’re next adjoined in this respect

So the funeral is a sigh of relief that earns every bit of its vex.