MY POEM COLLECTION

#24

An unsaid currency that has become a legal tender,

with a fast rampancy that knows no tethers,

the drapes of figures that hover above the extroverts,

the drafts of shadows that lengthen down their corridor's width,

the mass of their absence leaves me in a rest,

but annoys the others to a civil unrest,

the strange dolls trot around the floor,

harsh and angry at my silent store,

they laugh and smack dab all night long,

but grieve my mistle toe song,

I put a little to my bottle's crater,

to hide the absence of the huge rattle,

I come with a faux of a rattle,

to show off my worthy saddle,

they joyfully bound towards me,

not knowing the grit of my teeth,

the months pass by in a blur,

all being left is a haze of shadows,

a deadly mushroom grows stronger with every appearance,

peeling down my mind's defenses,

I shriek away from their hold one day,

and throw away their clawed statements,

their porcelain bodies morphing to towering inklings,

and reach out to me with nefarious talons,

I skid away, avoiding them by a hair's width,

allowed to see another day, allowed to take another breath,

though the silence may be a treacherous sight,

their absence, makes me shrivelled to the masses' might,

but, my air of silence is back at last,

and that alone is enough for my cast.