Maybe I'll be heard before my time is done, then again, maybe not |
Silence by Keaton Foster Silence No words Heard No sounds True What is real And not Ambiguous At best This mind A prison This world A forest Creatures People Same Said difference All around Shapes Twisted trees Folded horizons Reality All but broken A mess What is left A stain Further remains In the middle Conscientious An observer Here I’m alive Upon the page I’ll remain Words Are weapons Imagination Turned stagnation The pond is full But the water Does not move Below the surface Is a truth I’d rather not face Deeper Into those depths Something Once placed Taken from me Stolen from my life Saddled with weight Sunken down Deeper than I’ll go Beyond The precipice Of madness Into the ether Of sadness Beyond what is And could ever be Survivable Silence Nothingness Meant By myself I am Alone I’ve become No one knows No one understands They just don’t Or won’t They refuse As they should None are fools Apropos Inward they see Outward they scream They wish to believe That people are good And that they Are amongst the elite Willing by standers With their hands In their own pockets And their mouths Taped shut They won’t speak They won’t say a word They keep to themselves As I plead with all else They want to know Without knowing They want to experience A darker truth Without understanding What it means To have lived as I do Silence I won’t say a word I won’t speak a sound I will just write it down Line by line I’ll express it all Inward and out I tell them a truth That they can live with While I further die Deeper inside They won’t know What to feel Or how to think The horror of it all Will sink deeper still Down to a depth Yet to be expressed… Silence Written by Keaton Foster Copyright © 2008-2019 |