In grass of deception, the snake lies waiting,
With venom'd fangs, 'n jaws dilating,
Salivating, watching, baiting,
Sure to pounce, mutilating.

With forked tongue, she paints my heart black,
Sinks sharp talons into flesh o' bare back,
Drips her poison into my kidneys,
Cuts my innocence in myriad pieces.

My name is Silence; my job to suffer,
To make no sound, nor word to utter,
For though the dragon spits forth fire,
George'll guard himself from ire.