Jessie Jett (12/31/1989 / Maryland)
It's too loud.
But there is no sound.
Emptiness creeps up from the ground.
The space is screaming.
The walls are bleeding.
My lungs burn to keep on breathing.
The room is shrinking.
My soul thrives to stop thinking.
My ears plead just to stop ringing.
But it's too loud.
There's nothing around.
Emptiness is the loudest sound.
Comments about this poem (Screaming Silence by Jessie Jett )
Top 500 Poems
The Road Not Taken
If You Forget Me
Still I Rise
Edgar Allan Poe
I Know Why The Caged Bird Sings
Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening
William Ernest Henley