ringing in my ears is an audible silence,
a little pious song of impartiality,
begging me to ask who to blame,
if it be unto me or to my peer.

i’ve grown weary to exist,
and ******* at the fear of fact,
to let the truths be right,
and righteous manners be my truth.

the unknowing lends me courageous,
to project out in an audible silence,
proof of my existence in penitence,
but receiving nothing in the way of life.

it is never heard to be unheard.