I’ve heard it been called ‘Silent Killer’.

It stealthily stalks on its prey,

And once it arrives at its target,

It sits there with nothing to say.

 

It silently waits to grow bigger.

Doing little to tell you it’s there.

It leaches from everything near it.

It grabs what it wants without care.

 

It silently takes without giving.

It offers nothing you want in return.

To increase, to develop, to flourish,

Is its singular driving concern.

 

But I hear what it does in the silence.

I hear each distraught question ‘Why?’

I hear all the difficult breathing.

I hear screaming in terrified eyes.

 

I hear the explosion and shrapnel,

Of the lives that it rips all asunder.

I hear the frustration and anguish.

I hear the inaudible thunder.

 

It hears not the coughing it causes,

Nor feels the unbearable pain.

It sees not the crippling impact,

As it toils on its terror campaign.

 

It might silently enter the body,

And with stealth it dispenses its violence,

But there’s tears and there’s pain and there’s torment,

It may kill, but it isn’t in silence.