by Travis Rent

Created on: August 24, 2009

The silent talker sits and gawks
About the finer things of life
But rarely does the talker talk
So rarely do you hear his strife.
He sits alone out loud in dark
Counting his treasures won
Outside he never leaves his mark
Once the day again is done.
And again he feels quite satisfied
Having known his treasure to be
Quite a rare one, he deeply sighed
Another thought I have set free.
And freely the thought lives on in stride
Inside the brain of its good liberator
Hoping but hiding its true pride
Yet knowing it was known by a dictator
And still silently the thought says little
Afraid to lose its keepers favor
But losing its purpose it soon becomes brittle.
And thinker and thought both forget flavor.

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