Hush

Sometimes I find myself pondering thoughts
that have no real aim,
it's discursiveness seems awful fitting
for a small-minded heart
who solely pines to be understood
whilst beating nonsense
and crafting buttercup wreaths

There are times
when I can feel all my philosophies
fall between the pauses
of words and punctuation,
creating blank stares
and voiceless tongues
that speak only when spoken to

Some notions
mind needs not to say,
out loud
or in poem
the stillness mutters it's distinct language
pronouncing all
that I do not