Letters all dead
Lips gone pale
tied tongue
to crush
it is quiet now — it is quiet
strength draining
to deafen, make deaf
break the mouth
quiet the silence
it’s unclear, confused
not well known
coming undone
pitch black
to a person in darkness
darkening the dark
called in the shade
it’s not clear
it has darkened
cannot be heard, no one hears
it caught the sun in the color of dusk
scorched
hidden
I don’t understand
red
white
it is quiet
the loudmouth
the muddled one
I was not made to speak
I was not revealed
there is light
sit in the white
the voice is quiet
to whisper
speak by gossiping
lack of sound
sound is silence
it is broken
small hole
a white horse
this thing is also there
it is finished
the heart is being buried
it has bent
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