Paper Cut Eyes

Silence

Silence

They say silence is golden,

plated thin enough even gold can be sharp as a razor.

Cutting your mind open,

to allow unwanted emotion.

The nonexistent noise,

stripping silly joys,

like hearing from it's throne.

If silence is so golden,

why do I feel nothing but alone?

Perched up on my throne of madness,

listening carefully for the break of the pattern.

Bringing forth more sadness,

the pattern is never broken.

Until that faithful knock on the door.

Who's here at this hour?

Who could it be for?

Unmoving I sit.

How I wish that eerie knock could go silent.