From Which I Hide

by, Cassandra

A glimpse of freedom that I'll never know
A hint of angst that was never told
A story hid, a song unsung
A pen left sitting on the dusty shelf
This book has been read a thousand times
Though the meaning remains unknown
Every rock unturned, every feeling hid
Nothing know, nothing gained
A life unmoving in dreamer's dreams
What you get is what you see
Everything hidden in places deep
Listen still for the sparrow's song
Fading fast, losing ground
Reaching out for help around
Feeling tired, feeling sick
Giving up on healings wings
Patients wearing out so quickly
Welding lies so they can't see
Things inside from which I hide