Silenced by a hand -
not my own
I'm in a world with billions,
yet alone.
But with my thoughts upon your skin;
tattooed, you tell the world
all I've ever truly wanted to say.
And all you ask of me
All you ask in return
is that I turn to you when my skies are gray.
And that I touch you with the tips
of my fingers that have scrawled
across the heart of you
and across your fired walls
And you ask that I be there -
even if you're not,
but especially when it seems
you've got nothing at all
You ask that I do it all for you-
like you've done for me
You ask that I do everything and anything
except for let you fall
So I trace my fingertips-
unsilenced - on the ink
Tattooed, I feel your skin
It's because of you - I think-
that I'll never truly be silenced again
Brick by every brick,
we've destroyed those fired walls
Key by key we've typed
'til all the walls must fall.
We're in this world together after all.
An Ode to the Computer.
This poem is dedicated to the billions silenced by the internet censorship laws of China. And because they so unfortunately can't, I'd like to mention the following: Tiananmen Square, Falun Gong, police brutality, Taiwanese Independence, freedom of speech, democracy, Marxism, and the Dalai Lama. Information and freedom of speech are both invaluable parts of life, and to take them away from someone is criminal. There are no shackles worse, there's no torture greater, and there's no death as cruel as the imprisonment of one's mind.