Nothing but noise from my tongue. 

A ringing so fine tune in my ear, you'd think it was composed by God, himself.

My words are not mine. 

My thoughts are projected only through more thoughts. 

Selfishness is the root. 

Fear is the stem. 

And I just keep pedaling more lies. 

allets's picture

"...Nothing but noise from my

"...Nothing but noise from my tongue..." Yep - that's what most do, fortunately and especially poets. Not quite Babel syndrome, but close ~ I like this poem ~Star~