Silence

sweet blessed silence walls are empty all screams echo through them i glance at the frosted windows they hang on the south end bringing in a dull sunlight that is little of warmth and not very bright the only sound is down the hall outside amongst my captors a piano plays the melody of the morning lark yeah. whatever. I'd rather listen to the sweet, seductive tones of the nightingale. whistling along in the dark with endless sleepless nights laying upon the cold, hard floor it seems I've been in this prison for a fortnight of many daylights.