Courage

I would like to try out the shoes of those ones,
Who is honored of breaking this silence,
I am armed with my ladened poetry guns
But I lack for my courage reliance.

So, I walk in the shoes of the quiet and few,
And my guns are all heavy with fire,
Their silence speaks louder than thunder in blue,
But my courage’s like a worn-out wire.

So, they lie in the stillness with none to defend,
Being chased by my palms on occasion,
I am chasing their calm but my knees yet might bend,
Just a strongest of my dissuasion.

Oh, the shoes of my silence, you fit me so tight,
I’m ashamed of my armed indecision,
I hear whispers of heroes in the dead of night,
But I’m short of a similar vision.

And I envy their calm, their unshaken goodwill,
I am trying to stand in their quiet,
While my thoughts are all racing and trying to kill,
But they too on uncertainty diet.

Maybe hush is the courage I fervently seek,
I’ll lay down my guns in the limbo,
Maybe that is the language that I never speak,
But I am not an ill-spirited bimbo.

I would like to step up where my footsteps won’t fall
With my silence portending a murder,
But my zeal was hushed up by an unspoken call,
From the watchful and heavenly herder.

So, I carry my thought as a stone in my chest,
Like an arsenal loaded with meaning,
Maybe, through self-control I’ve accomplished my best,
But this knowledge I’m thoroughly gleaning.

Oh, my footwear of silence, I’ll borrow your way,
Through the poetry ready for scourage,
And through storms of my words I will openly say,
That the others for deeds will encourage.

Their courage will bloom like the flowers unseen,
And their deeds will not quiet or stumble,
While the notes of my voicing, as caught in between,
Will not stifle this emboldened rumble.

I’ve constructed my castle of verses and rhyme,
And therei;n only poetry’s bound,
This creation will crack with the weight of the time,
If a mouthpiece will never be found.

So, my muteness’s shoes won’t forever extend,
And one time I’ll defect my hideout,
With my angelhood stance I will cease to pretend,
And my poetry guns will shoot out.