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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1248766-Silence
Rated: 18+ · Fiction · Fantasy · #1248766
One wish for silence in the night.
I wish I may I wish I might vanish from all things in sight.

 Is my world so small and my vision that narrow to be the streets ahead of  my sight that there may  be pain  more greater than mine.

Hallow nights, cig after cig, tears and all with every endless night gone past with that fucking relentless bitch of a day that follows my way.

I pray for nothing, blank spots in my head, to touch, or smell, just nothing.
Sshh…. If you listen, you can hear it. Silence comes marching sown laughing, mocking “your time and your moments”. “That’s right!” You say. “My choice, my moment of nothing,” you mumble. Nevertheless, the Nothing never comes. He stood you up again. Tick, tock, tick, tock time passes on. Drip, drop, drip, drop rain falls on the world outside. Non- human objects dance and shadows frolic around your self-barricade. Creaks and moans teeter and whimper the nights voice begins to whisper. “Silence is but an old silly pass time a nanny would play with the children to make them quiet. It made the nanny’s jobs bearable. And so it came to be…silence, that’s me.” It was the raves of all raves amongst the elite, a must to do of a season but season after season until generations last past, silence still lived. “All you wish for is “silence” but there never will be.” As your mind tells this story as crazy as it seems the voices sound loud and you begin to lose control. Your mind races through memories of countless nights thinking all you wanted to do was just breath. “Silly girl with your hair in curls you have to breath to stay alive.” “What do you think you’re doing now?” Your mind asks itself to ask itself to ask itself to ask. No answer, “Are you trying to be somebody I can’t see. I see all beyond the noise of silence, a chosen pain, and grief so shallow. “There, there, my poor child,” she whispers, as it creeps slowly up your covers to the tip of you quivering chin across the chapped lips up an over the hill into the depths of your soul. You wished for something called Nothing and all you get is another fucking, bitch we call today and you are on your way.

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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1248766-Silence