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.
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