Still Listening For The Sounds. Poem by Ace Of Black Hearts

A poem to die for.
A song to live for.
These are the words.
These are the voices.
Unheard and unobserved.
How can I help?
How can I serve?
Given wings take flight my mighty pretty blue bird.
Maybe your luck will be better.
Maybe the water you drink will quench your thirst.
Not distracted by a promiscuous feather.
Leading on, but not too.
A following.
A floundering.
The fish is drowning.
Suffocating while you still are able to breath.
Where is the relief?
What will end this grief?
Slowly sucking lifeless souls into the darkness.
Who heart is cold enough to go?
To where it is.
You succeed by making us all the victims.
Trial by suffering.
An unending bleeding.
No matter what is used.
Soaked up but not stopped.
The sounds of thuds as each one drops.
You say it is okay be free.
But what is it we are escaping, if with this life you are castrating.
Knife through the bread, then add butter to and for the well fed.
Please satisfy those dire crys.
A quelling of beast eyes.
Sleep only if it is forever.
Or if it is written in a long forgotten letter.
No contingencies met.
A counter offer to what?
The ball has already been dropped.
It is not to blame or fault.
For you can't break into a locked vault.
Not without time and good measures.
Tell me how much have you had.
A smile for a second then your head is between your knees all sad.
Hope is but a cog in machine that squeaks.
When it goes silent, what is it that we really fear.
A world to disappear.