Sonnet Iii Poem by Gabe Florsheim

I've watched for hours the man who could not move.
The way his lips tremble, his heart racing
like a little drummer trying to prove
what looks unable 's often just waiting
for when it can express it's true rythmn
and be more than just a shaking figure.
The man who could not move had a wisdom
But he couldn't quite pull his own trigger.
In time, we all say, he will lose control
of himself and all that he is hiding.
We'll find out if he knows what we all knew
That secrets are always worth confiding.
We could watch as even diamonds shatter
Even then, to him, it wouldn't matter.