Mechanical Acts Poem by Cheyenne Rhon

Must I mute my heart?
Dull that artistic ring,
Sensor the imaginative flare,
For a world that is unaware,
Of it's potential beauty.

Should I taint a dream?
With the incessant wines,
Of what passion lacks,
Turned into mechanical acts,
Performed with somber eyes.

Is it natural not to breath?
Exhale all that enlivens,
Those steps I devise,
And sink into the sighs,
Of a weightless blue.

The woes of a normal life,
Where tears do not suffice.