Sparkatale

Are you waiting for words from me?
Do you wait for my voice? Then try to see
Instead that I speak with my eyes
They hold my smiles, they hold my cries...

My most moving statements will not be made
By vocal words when my thoughts have strayed
So far from me that I will remain
Silent when I feel this strain...

My eyes were colored so they may have a voice
That can speak for me when I have no choice...
Look to the green, it's dark and deep
Resemblance of the secrets I so do keep...

The brown is there, small and bright
To portray the fear of battles I have yet to fight...
And in the center, of course, is black
To show my sorrow of that I can't go back...

It's hard to believe what my eyes sometimes say
When the rest of the time they just drift away
To a world that must attract and amuse
Them while I sit there so often confused

And lucky for me, my eyes know when I try
To get my voice out and when it dies
They brighten, then darken, to help me out
When somewhere inside, my voice gives its doubt...

These are my wordless speeches, and though
People will not understand them, I will always know
That my most beautiful works are so often created
Where words have gone before and so devastated...