Help.
The silence is deafening,
It consumes me,
And tells me I'm loathing.
I'm so angry.
The silence tells me that,
comforts me,
And erases the subtle matte.
Where am I?
The silence hides me away,
Corroding me,
And melting me into Sunday.
Darkness.
The silence lives in that,
Caressing me,
And leaving me on the welcome mat.
Help.
The silence tells me that,
Corroding me,
And leaving me on the welcome mat.
