“Too much silence is a poison to the mind”

In the soundless room,
Where shadows cling and whispers fade,
The silence swells, an unseen blade,
Cutting through the fragile seams,
Of a man lost in his tangled dreams.
The walls, once a haven, now confine,
As thoughts, like tempest winds, entwine.

The soundless room,
So quiet and dark,
The confines of its walls
The anchor and weight of a forgotten place,
Solitude wraps him in its cold embrace,
The comfort of the quiet,
To a man of much thought, the silence is a poison,

To a man of much thought, give him a reason.
To a man of much thought will it be a poison?
A deafening silence,
A reason to live,
to perhaps pour his mind on a page,
Give an outlet to a man breaking within from rage,
A single reason, a sliver of light,
To list his woes in the dead of night,
To pour his anguish onto the page,
Evidently crumbling however tall he displays,

He cracks at the seams,
Yet confident he seems,
A demeanor so collected,
So bold, little stories are told of the chaos to unfold of dreams left shattered, and wounds unhealed. The light in his eyes losing its zeal.

The pain he felt losing himself,
To a hope
To a dream
To a desire never achieved.
His past is trailed with pain
His future uncertain,

He walks a tightrope over the abyss,
Each step a dance with the precipice.
The future a specter, the past a chain,
His soul wears the scars of silent pain.
He teeters, he falters, on the edge of despair,
A burden too great for a single heart to bear.
The desperate demand of the man left ruined and torn,

Just a little quiet,
The storm raging in the mind of the man, it is nothing to boast of, it is of no great plan,
No desire,
No purpose,
No will to learn,
He yearns for silence, for the ceasing of his soul’s endless burn,
His battle in a room of his mind, he struggles and cries, wondering if it’s finally his time,

No purpose, no fire, no will to fight,
He longs for the end, for the quiet’s blight.
The battle within, fierce and unkind,
In the soundless room, he’s losing his mind.

To sip from the promises of solitude so Venomous
Too much silence is poison,

I sit within its confines, a quiet reason.
The end is near,
The end…
A tragic and desolate season.

“Too much silence was poison,"
He whispered, as his thoughts aligned.
The silence had claimed him,
And in its grip, he resigned.
The soundless room, now left his final shrine.
The silence has poisoned the mind of the man.

~Soundz
© Soundz