I love words to speak or to write
It is not less than a task for someone like me
To stay quiet...

The thing is,If I am mute doesn't mean I lost words or I am at peace
Silence is not really silent
It is because there is a lot to say but nothing to speak
Whatever I whisper in silence reaches my mind but doesn't clearly reach my own ears
Being speechless doesn't prove me to be quiet if my voice is something you can not hear
There is a shade in it's pitch black shadow hard to see,to find
Silence isn't an empty hall , it is where thousand sounds interwine
If it's a sufferer completely reticent
Then there's patience singing inside
If it's a poet then through unknown songs in silence he moves tip of his pen

The last words we hear of a famous man arn't really last
He was humming much for future in tranquillity that later turned into past
Silence is not a weakness of oppressed one it is not end of revenge
It defines nothingness of threat though it's where planers plan
It is a core of discussion when tongues don't talk but eyes do
It's a rain of questions would give you too much to assume
That's where a poem is born first before the world could read
Silence isn't empty it's the most trafficked street
Sometimes it's too tangled to choose what to say
It's a calm looking ocean before storm comes to life deep underneathe
In tolerance senses remain stucked,illusion blocks the way

When you think I am quiet,I am not really
I don't want to tell cause it's too much
How would you know what do I think or wonder
When even I am incapable of solving a rush
Silence exists when tongue is tired
And spirits of soul want to hum the song
It's the most closest thing to hear
But don't ask me to play it for you,when it's the most unknown
It is a language neither you would understand nor I
So now be silent and let me be silent for a little while..

© @pain_riding_pen