Everything speaks through the silence,
Like family heirlooms
Or
Picture frames of a time
Belonging to your past.

Listen.
Through the nothingness of it.

It is the sound of the tides slamming inside of your head.

Say this or look at that or avoid this.
Your head is polluted.
It is years of humanity delicately turning your heart into stone.
It has become an immortal God, flawed in all its beauty;
In all its silence.
In all its truth.