Echoes of silence

A lot to share but don't have to A lot to spit but what into? The heart's full into my body shed, The words and yells of pains inbred. Our hearts pumps fluid but differently Yours pumps red mine pumps black And even though they both function vibrantly The pureness it is mine lack. The words and hurls from mouth should flow But buried in, deep down the blacky fluid land And flowers it blooms in trees it grow, Fruits of pain, hurt It yields on the heavy land. The mouth has failed, I embraced my hand, Which in a book it sinks with the dropped fluids of a loaded land My pains,my aches,my thoughts,my cuss, I've passed in a book forever I'll cross.