If I Knew How I Would Whistle
by Elizabeth Challinor
Souls screaming behind seemingly serene scenes of human functionality
Souls deaf to their own screams
Too busy to hear their drowning dreams
Ploughing through ocean upon ocean of triviality
No time to question their own sanity
Never mind that of society
Striving every day
For that tenuous equilibrium
As for me
I observe
But I am not above the fray
Singing in the open air helps sometimes