Quiet

Quiet is a scream heard only by you,    
hoarse and unintelligible anguish,      
impacting sound-proof self-protection,      
thus no one reacts or responds,      
for they hear nothing.      
      
Quiet is words spoken by others,      
dictated as truth to which you acquiesce,      
written scripts pouring so-called heart,      
when not a breath of these volumes      
were a creation of your voice.      
       
Quiet is an eternal mind-war,      
your inner sanctum's walls clawed to pulp,      
stinging familiar with the usual violence,      
never destined to fully heal, but      
still haphazardly bandaged.      
       
Quiet is betrayal to our sacred sound,      
the primal part of our beings,      
crying into the silent vortex, piercing,      
begging for torrential validation      
to cleanse stagnated silence.      
       
Quiet and quieter you fall,      
muting your own suffering,      
lest you suffer others.      
       
Quietly, you absorb    
Quietly, you accept    
Quietly, you reflect      
Quietly, you burn      
Quietly, you wither      
Quietly, you die    
       
Quiet is peace,      
or so you thought, but  
 
Quiet only attracts unrest.      
       
-MgAl