Its strange how sound exists,
How silence fits around
The noise that may be far
Or may be near,
Yet always in the gaps
Within the noise
There is the sound
Of nothingness

I am noise and action
An assault upon the senses
Of everone it seems
In earshot or worse yet
Within the range
Of touch or eyes meet,
Close enough to sense
My inner turmoiled demons

Well soon enough,
Albeit not soon enough
For some,
My noise will diminish
My actions still,
And where I once crashed
About there will be purely
Blessed quiet.

Enjoy!