Sometimes, it's better not to speak
Than to be judged for your words.
Excuse me for not believing in fairies,
I was raised by this dirt
Where some of the only things with wings
And the stuff of old men's dreams
See, we may never see eye to eye,
But I promise I would never categorize
You as good or evil, because that's a disguise.
It takes true talent to accept both sides.
Welcome to my world: I was raised in a haze
Where you remained in a book all day
Of fortunetellers' bid for power,
Until I noticed how we spent every hour.
It's an excuse not to pursue
A life worth living in this jungle's zoo.
The pain becomes too much to construe
A purpose without magic to rule.
Isn't it enough to see beauty in the morning sky?
I believe that if the truth were in everyone's mind
They'd huddle together instead of waiting for pleasure
In another life.
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Comments about this poem (Inner Silence by Edwin Cordero )
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
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