Growing like moss on the trunck of a willow tree, comsuming everything amongst the rightousness in your mind. It tweaks the very sanity of your self asurance, and it is filling the already full spaces within yourself.
Its inside growing, it grows until it seeps out of the pours in your skin. this thing is everywhere. Do not run, it will find you. It always does. If you keep running it will only get worse.
''Hello, is anybody out there? I need somebody''
Worry no longer, I am here
''Who are you... Where are you? ''
I am right here. I am behind you, above you, infront and beside, I am inside you. It is I, Silence.
'No! Let me be, I want to be alone'
I thought you wanted somebody...
You are insaine. This sound has coroded your thoughts; you wish you never wished for silence. You are sprinting as fast as you can through the trees and the brush. It is still following you. right to the cliff where you shall pumle to your death.
Wonderfully presented silence using amazing imagery. Love with 10.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
interesting...i defintly won't be wishing for silence anytime soon...