That's the thing about Silence,
It's not quietly peaceful.
It's cold,
And it's haunting,
And truly deceitful.

The thing about Silence,
Is that it's painful,
And overbearing.
It gives you room to think,
About the things that aren't so joyful.

The thing about Silence,
Is that it isn't really silent.
Your thoughts scream out loudly,
Demanding that you hear them,
Uncontrollably Defiant.

The thing about Silence,
Is that it's quietly violent.
Hurting you,
Breaking you,
Always destroying your will to be vibrant.

The thing about Silence,
Is that it isn't great at all.
It causes more destruction.
It sneaks inside and plants the hate and doubt,
It breaks through your shielding walls.

That's the thing about Silence.
It slowly kills me.
With the self-deprecation,
And the memories.
*That's the thing about Silence, you see.