In the silence, you make me wonder,
if it is me that can't hear
or you that can't speak.
In the loneliness the sounds I do hear are two forked,
talking in riddles,
and laugh and criticize me.
You think I don't know the insecurities,
that plague your soul.
You under estimated what you can't touch.
Wrong you have been to think, that the cries don't echo,
the words that you can't say.