there is nothing to be taught that cannot be learnt,
to know that i exist,
and to feel the warmth of my skin as i sleep,
to know that i am alive.
the arrangement of my senses so neatly laid out,
like the pressed blankets upon my bed,
to count them one by one,as i dream instead.
the simplicity of my tongue,and the voice of my own,
and all i see through my open window,
is the world that i have thrown.
can you look into my eyes as i breathe softly without a sound,
can you see me as i walk into the very shadows you climbed out of?
believe me my kind soul,i will never say another word,
unless i speak out of turn,
just to say what i have wanted to say all these moments,
passing by without hope of return,
and my eyes rest on your desolate expression.