Silent Pain Screaming

like a hinge of an old door rusty and lacking of midnight oil I am left speechless unable to decipher the writing on the wall it wails accuses belittles mocks groans teases and admonishes from cracks unable to hold its grout where a couple of stones have become loose it is not an easy patch up work bricks crumble under a pick axe blunt and far too short to keep longing at bay but I wonder whether there is a secret treasure a message pot of gold old newspaper an old marble lost hidden behind my partition with the world myself and the past present delusion that everything must be okay a church bell distracts from agony the cemetery must be a cold place some graves are overgrown by moss others too immaculate not to scream out in numb pain I can’t stop sad music playing in my head too many voices opinions and judgement a discomforting concert of sorrow and a gramophone record hurt by a needle unable to move forward the clock strikes again and once more endless reverberations of throbbing exertion vibrations of torment and misunderstandings and yet I can do this and my last thought before overdue slumber is that there is energy in the Universe and sometimes it passes through me that is when the silent scream becomes a loud whisper and shrieks become music 24th November 2022 contest pick a title volume 33 sponsor Edvard Ibeh