Quiet’s Violent

In hollow chambers, I reflect,
For I have nothing more
To pique a little interest here
With silence at the door.

As I inspect the room around,
The haunting stillness stays.
Seclusion brings insanity,
And I am counting days.

This exile takes my soul away
From precious open air.
The isolation drags along.
It isn’t just “a scare.”

Sanguineous blood does drown out sense;
It pulses, hammers deep
Within this howling, stormy mind.
The silence makes me weep.

Sometimes, quiet is violent.
The skull conceals a pain
So deep, exhausting, I am left
With will against this bane.