A silence, Eerily deafening, Though nothing surrounds, It is if a lion roars in my ear. The absence of, Yet the abundance, Where the trails of sound slowly fade, The daunting climb of thought provokes An unending climb. Accompanied By vast chasms devoid of even a pens drop. To be silent Is to be truly alone with oneself.

Silence isn’t a sound. It’s a feeling. Fire and ice tearing through my veins, burning, freezing, never settling. It’s the weight of being misunderstood, a language I never learned to translate. Pain stays quiet so no one else has to hear it.

Silence steals the light from my eyes. It sits in my chest, heavy as regret, sharp as a blade. Forms a lump in my throat, tight as a fist that refuses to unclench. Claws at my ribs, pressing, suffocating.

Silence HATES dinner. It fills the room, thick and bitter, settling between bites, between glances, between words left unsaid. Plates scrape. Glasses clink. No one says a damn thing.

Silence is the loudest scream inside my body. It echoes in my bones, rattles inside my skull, a storm with no exit.

Someone, please let her out.

Silence is a fear Something I cannot bear Sounds lost I will not cross Paths with him The feeling so grim Monsters sing Silence bring Alone Turned to stone Time stopped Sound robbed Heights rise Raising their eyes How to play this game Of solid shame Dark like a night without stars Watch me with my scars Dance and sing Add some bling Stab the silence Break that fence Silence has no chance Watch me dance

The Silence is heavy on my tongue Leaving a bitter film that can’t be swallowed clean Soundlessness rattles my eardrums Ricocheting the landscape of my mind, never still

Your sealed lips electric The possibilities endless Anticipation lifts me, riles me And I’ve travelled miles without moving an inch

Release me from this lingering I am the rumblings of an avalanche Set in motion, out of our hands The Silence breaks

The silence is heavy on my tongue Leaving a bitter film that can’t be swallowed away Soundlessness rattling my eardrums Ricocheting the landscape of my mind, never still

Your sealed lips are electric The possibilities endless Anticipation lifts me, riles me
I’ve travelled miles without moving a muscle

Release me from this lingering I am the rumblings of an avalanche Set in motion, out of control The silence breaks

Tick tock tick tock It’s all I hear This silence so loud So hard to bear That and my thoughts Pounding in my head No release Not till death But when I think “Ive had enough” Someone’s there To break this curse This silence I can hear

An eiree sound that is no sound at all fills the walls the halls my ears my tears

Unable to think in a lound silence Unable to dream when its so quiet no one around but i dont feel alone and i dont feel at home

An unsettling feeling A dread that is nearing breaths echo through I feel so trapped in a loud silence silence should be quiet, Right?

Silence

Space Haven Safe

Silence

Threatening Dangerous Deafening

Silence

Peace Serenity Breathe

Silence

Drowning Suffocating Thrashing

Silence

Expression Freedom Relaxation

Silence

Endless Panic Deadly

Silence is comforting until you realize it means basking in the company in which you are disturbed. It is easier to picture yourself as a hero when those around you murmur in your ear that you are so. It is easy to believe you are important, unflawed when those around you refuse to allow for self-reflection. If you are unable to reflect on your flaws you will never evolve. Flaws? What flaws? Everyone wants to believe they are a perfect individual, one who is incapable of harming themselves or others whether willingly or not. It is blissful to live to unaccompanied by sadness, only achievable if you refuse to stare back at the creature you've created in the mirror. It begs for you. It wails for you to pay to attention it for even a second. It looks somewhat familiar, almost like a mangled version of the self that others perceive. It is ugly, utterly horrifying to look at. The longer you stare at it the more it pounds on the mirror and fractures the image. It does not go away when you shut your eyes; the picture will disappear, but the inhuman noise it produces will become unbearable. Perhaps your ears will bleed liquid invisible in the darkness you have created for yourself. It might reach through on of the cracks and grasp your neck with an inhuman, clawed hand. When its fingers tighten and its nails dig into your untouched skin it will leave you pleading for air. You will feel panic unfamiliar; you have never had to wonder what death might feel like. It will engulf you as it crawls further out of the mirror. Its body is inhuman and heavy, impossible to be lifted or thrown. It will shatter your bones to dust and liquidate your organs until you have nearly evaporated into impercieivable matter. Are you scared? When you have reached your tolerance for agony, before it can even think about scratching a nail through the surface of the mirror, you will flee. The bustling street and the chatter of strangers will leave you wondering if what you observed was real at all. People will not care enough to comfort you. No one will protect you from the nauseating version of yourself that will bring tears to your eyes. Yet it does not matter for the monster will not make itself known in the presence of your acquaintances, and the piercing music blasting in your eardrums will not distract you from what you will experience when you close your eyes and the song has quieted.

To finnish a thought without interruption. To reflect upon the day before it has even started, as it is still dark out, and the birds have only just started waking up in the trees outside.

To listen to your body moving and breathing. Living. Just being. Chest moving up. And down. Up. And down.

Up. Down.

Letting go of feelings felt about times past. Letting turmoil turn into calm waters.

Letting that scene play over again and again. That scene filling you up with sadness and frustration. Letting the sentence be read out loud inside again and again. Saying to yourself what you wish you had said, again and again.

Playing. Acting. From start to finnish.

Until a new scene shows itself. Taking its place.

Being still while the internal theater plays the scenes so lively, you feel you are there now.

How it happened. How it could have happened. How you wish it had happened.

Feeling it deeply.

Have it sink in.

Going deep. Considering, even, that maybe it wasn't even that important to begin with. Perhaps it was not worth this turmoil.

Perhaps there is a simple truth to it. A less dramatic one.

Perhaps.

And it turns from turmoil to still waters.

Only from allowing it the time and space that is silence.