A Thunder Called Silence

A Thunder Called Silence

The solid, sledgehammer feel of silence,
A dark blank screen,
In a magnified lense
The naked nerve it has,
To mock you in the face
Rubbing you raw,
It’s a laughing stock, your state.

The rasping, raucous racket of silence
A wolf in sheep’s clothing
Roaring all around the place,
Driving a stake through your heart
Blood pounding all the way to your head,
Drowning out every other noise,
And it all comes back, the hush, the dread.

Silence...
The mirror in which you recognize yourself,
The ocean in which you drown yourself,

Silence...
The voice that answers a million questions away.........
The sound your life makes as it fades.............