Lies Are Often Told In Silence

There are Angels caught in cold defences:
surrounded by cool man-made secrecy,
razor-sharp big dippers travel through
steel spikes; intricate, that reach for Heaven.
Grey sky often gathers up solemn tears
while it prepares to weep colour down on
stay away from me statements; bold and fresh,
they dance exotically in confines
of an insane hatter's broken charade.
A poem was fashioned on a harsh cracked look,
it was handed over without a word,
eyes spoke parlous anger for I'd shattered
precious atmosphere; such a stormy bolt
that crashed into the mind's fascination.
"Lies are often told in silence," you said.