Audience

There is an audience
Out there
Where no one hears
And the eyes slam shut
The doors of rejection.
When everything is written down
And then played over airwaves
Our thoughts will merge into one mind,
Singing the songs of our fathers.
The ones who built it all
Built to fall
Spilling tears into a
Bitter chalice.
An eternity of soiled dreams
Of broken things
Trinkets with no value
Expect when held in hearts.
Revered in the eyes of our mothers
Drying out in the relentless
Summer sun.
No more work to be done.
Crying to our new children
Who bust at the seams,
Faulty stitching.
We are so delicate that we fall apart like paper
Questioning the art of ages passed
Crawling over endless pages of books we never read
Spitting out words never said
And of whispers in the dark
Telling the stories of us.