The Noise I Breathe

He stalks me for all but the Short five hours of the day while I sleep. 6am, the sun rises, Clang, bang the pots and pans. As grandmother cooks he creeps From the kitchen into my room. Frightened and annoyed by his disturbance, I awake to my daily life Where he continues to stalk And sting my ears. On the bus, in class, at home, He lurks every corner, everywhere. Anywhere you go he’s there, Especially when you need peace. The air by which I am circulated, Is circulated by an air not of air - But of noise. And after breathing in this Intoxicating atmosphere for eighteen years, The effects and suffocation cannot be Tolerated any longer. If my ears were goalies, They would fail miserably; None of the noise is blocked out. If noise was a murderer, He’d pierce every time – With no regard for the situation, No regard for me.