The sounds of sorrow :
soft whimpers under covers
late , late on a cold winter's night

Low moans of eternal pain
that one has tried to turn
into  . . ."I forgot"

Long wails that are full
of fury and devastation
as a hurricane's whip cracks

The heart that has been
kicked and stomped
and stabbed to froth

Flipping pages of poetry
fanning the heat
of discourse

Long sighs
sitting in a swing
looking down . . .coughs

Hearing what other's think
what they say
in silence

The scrape of a mental shovel
digging deeper
trying to bury the past

Oh ! Of course !
the frustration of deliberations
throwing and shattering glass

Yelling in a canyon
but there are no echoes
bouncing back

The ******* sound
made from a razorblade
that is in your mouth

and then silence