In a picture world where everything has no sound

We discover ourselves

What little we have left of integrity

It deepens as we get cornered at the frame

Our minds leak with anticipation

Cutting edge knowledge never-before-seen

The puddle of ink seeps through as we attain the new

Facing those fears we always hid from

Handwriting our names with more delicacy

Inching closer to that exposure of our inner minds

The way thinking feels foreign

Can we understand the consequences of emotions?

The motion of swaying stops the flow of comprehension

We bring forth the provoking thoughts of being ourselves

And we wonder what will tomorrow bring

Will I still be myself, or completely untangible?

We wonder as always, in a picture world where there is no sound

And discover ourselves through the little things.