The natives know when to speak.

Clock tower; madness; disappears
Casting shadows on the tallest man
I think to shudder as you close the blinds
Letting the light slip in
Like slivers stabbing at dusk
Each blade a fine shape
Edge between the bookcase and the bottles
-When-
Every night is over
And every day is done
I'll succumb
Without a whimper
Not a tear
For the day breaks
In silence
But the players' defiance
Left a ringing in my ear
Told me not to settle
Not to play the fear
For those shadows
Until they
Disappear
They've found the light
In sacrifice
Letting go..
So when it breaks
It shatters