silence
is such a perfect
torture

not quiet of others,
you see,
but of myself

to be able to hear,
to think,
to know

but be unable to answer,
to teach,
to speak

silence is such
a perfect torture,
for me,
the loud and
boisterous
one

to be trapped inside
my very own lips

to be filled with words
but be denied the voice

this is a
greater punishment
than any
prison

I suppose this is why
poesy is so important

it is my voice,
on the page

it is the monologue,
that I attempt to make
dialogue

it is who I am
and my way of
telling you
that

this silence
is such perfect torture
for me

it eats at me
without taking
any bites

it causes pain,
only because I
try to fight it

silence
is such a perfect
torture
for those who
exist
in their
words

and this silence,
could drive me to insanity,
forever left alone
with myself