Silence

He yells for all the block to hear
that he's succumb to forcing lust,
his lips have sacrificed his tongue
in favor of a squeemish touch.

The loneliness seduced his eyes,
thrust hard upon her golden lure;
dear lad abandoned thoughts of love
in keeping with the medic's cure.

"Awake! Awake! Such mindless fools!
Kill morbid curiosity!
Come gaze upon the empty boy,
and mock his cheap tomfoolery!"

(The cryptic, crooked crone sits idly,
never mind her hidden gaze --
the neighborhood would not take kindly
to her dark and dirty ways.)

In every cold and smiling face
he screams, and little pain evokes,
flails carelessly in desperation,
repeats each bitter lie she spoke.

Still people pass the dear lad by,
his pleas to human hearts unheard;
of all life's wondrous mysteries,
indeed he hasn't said a word.

(Surrendered to the clever crone,
dear lad is not alone tonight.
His body victim to the curse,
his heart has given up this fight.

Yet in his mind he knows the truth,
his lips are quivering still...
he longs to yell, but never speaks.
Perhaps he never will.)