Straight Toward Wry

I am boisterously quiet; unabashedly shy.
I ease through anxiety; straight toward wry.
I cry on the shoulders of kings and of men.
I lift them up; put them together again.

We cannot feel when blind is awake.
We cannot see when life is at stake.

I climb and I claw down toward the sky.
I grasp the ropes; slip though try.
I retch and I bend; whimper in pain.
I bleed and I sob; come alive again.

I am boisterously quiet; unabashedly shy.
I ease through anxiety; straight toward wry.
I lean too far; fast to the ground.
I hear breaking; my last sound.

We cannot love when broken is time.
We cannot speak when art is crime.