That the light would have faded but chose not to,
that it could have danced the shadow(s) down a different road;
Instead it chose to serve a whim, a purely infintesimal,
but for a change the pin begot the stack.
Alive among the riddles of the mind,
the answers seething, wreathing without grip.
Slowly falling further into a sense of mute hostility,
the words they’d shout meaning nothing but their sounds.
Not through gagging did the final silence fall,
but by shouting at it all till all n’ all.
The subterfuge had dissipated amongst the cracks,
the anger and the fury fighting back.
©TheHairyTeacher2014
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