Introversion – eighteen


The Silence of things unspoken,
Is that we’re all a little broken,
It’s the things he didn’t say that cut through the silence,

Quiet was his art, quiet was his science,
Loud were the things unsaid,
Even in the distance, immense.

Sometimes, that’s all it takes,
To chew at societies heart,
To gather their thoughts like Autumns rake.
Sometimes, words cannot make,
What love you have to give,
Fragments of your soul to flake.


2 thoughts on “Introversion – eighteen”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s