Night, cry slowly.

Day, run quickly

Does that define me?

The actions to my sound?

Sometimes you write

With no understanding in the slight

Of the words you put to sight

And bury the words underground

Good riddance they, you say

But to go mute is to slay

Your right to speech, right to stay

So think carefully before words are found

But never lock those words down

For they are the metal to the crown

They are the audience to the clown

The words are expression beyond sound

Never let your freedom be bound.