THOUGHTS OF SILVER AND GOLD
When the silence is broken
By the sound of thought,
I dip into the freedom of memory
To see me through.
I remember, wine in the bottom of my mug
But I made a coffee,
And I drank it anyway, and accused myself because of it:
So just to let you know, you’re not completely to blame.
You accuse me of being insane,
Who’s to say that’s a bad thing?
It’s just different
Not wrong! not wrong.
The accusations fly but I didn’t do it.
At least I don’t think so.
Is it because I’m the darkness
That haunts your light?
Am I the sin
You desperately try to resist?
You blame me of many things:
Rightly, or wrongly,
Who’s to say?
You say I’m black hearted,
That I’m broken inside.
And you say my soul is dark.
I say it’s not.
This is me defending myself.
With all finger pointing, rumour and scuttlebutt,
And all the trouble you’ve caused,
I’ve come out of it relatively unscarred.
There’s silver in my hair:
But no gold,
There’s no silence in my head,
It’s broken by thought.
More writing by Michael Brett