It is a secret unknown,
the mystery that will never unfold.
A dark sound that doesnt grow old,
Walls surrounding,
a sea of fear,
how does the sound get out from here?
No squeaking of the floor
There is no sound coming from the door.
Only the silent winds,
Blowing the shite curtains across my face,
As I sit silently on the ground,
Isolated, Alone and Forgotten.
The only things I feel,
it seems as nothing is real,
the smell of smoke,
and the sight of spring or a blooming oak,
Its all so meaningless without a song,
One to grasp and never let go,
There is nothing that will help,
Even from the powers below
What is that I ask myself
does anyone really know?
It is just a silence
The life of pain goes to and fro.
 
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