Tho lips are sealed, my quill expresses doubt
In stating facts without consent from me
Thoughts unintended vie to have their shout
A case of not to be (and then to be)
Tis truth they say, that cannot be denied
Which spills upon the parchment come what may
If then imagination is applied
‘Hyperbole’ could also have its day
Own counsel’s kept (tho not said Poets choice)
As need within demands that we be heard
So sing your songs, give vent to stifled voice
Through shaping sounds by means of written word
Such composition makes our lives worthwhile
Then silence reigns behind a knowing smile