Shout

Please, please, I am a good guy-
But I want to shout.
There’s a hush, so what?
I want to shout.

Even if you are there
or not there- after dark-
laid bare in bed, or clipping nails,
or staring out of the window to the cold-
or reading out, in light, two friends and
a bear: children’s grim fairy tales

There.
I want to shout.

I want to shout.
I want to shout.
I want to shout.

For a reason unknown, for unfelt pain
A lungful of cry, a shriek profane-
With no word of rage, with no disdain
For the hell of it- I want to shout.

But, the greeter in the mall
says, shhhhhh-
But, the teacher in the hallway
says, shhhhhh-
But, the preacher of the good soul
says, shhhhhh-

“The life is so profound and brisk-
Why can’t you feel the bliss… of no sound?
Keep quiet or go away from here.”

Please, please I am a good guy-
But I don’t want to go.
Not me. Not like this.
For the silence of a frow is
an impossible thing.

And there-

out in the open, deep in the dark
for me silently it larks, forever-
an urge to fill up the void-
with a shout, and an-

Echo.

Echo.
Echo.

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