Tell me, do you know the cadence of the defeated?
A cry-colored deep blue,
A whimpering of the soul,
Words worn thin from weariness,
Have you heard how their howl trembles with a stuttering tempo.
Tell me, do you speak the tongue of the broken?
The language of the languished,
Connotations steeped in the negative,
Have you heard how broken spirits chant hymns of sorrow?
Listen and you’ll hear them.
They’ll tell you of the by and by of some day
Praying one day
That they may dictate their defeat
To those who would pay heed.
A Blank Space 