The Silent and The Suffering
The vaguely audible drip-drop of tears onto floor
The sorrow, miserable countenance she wore
The expanding of an internal flame
Who is, I wonder, truly to blame?
She slouched, unevenly sitting
Whithin a robe of dross, greatly repenting
Her own soul, which she held so dear
Yet another falls, a silent tear
Lain upon the small carrel
A number of pages bound in peril
They swallow all her anguish and pain
Yet not enough to still the rain
Her body approaches, stride for stride
Leaving behind her wordly pride
Grasping the all-knowing pen and ink
Who have seen her walk, sit, and think
Another drop, this time black as coal
She clears her mind, and leaves her soul
Emptying into the darkening abyss
She takes to freedom, silence, and bliss
Lost in her imaginative, wonderous thoughts
She sees, now, all is but lost
Jotting quickly across the vellum
She cleanses her body of all the venom
Plum aside, she departs, forlorn
The spirit is leaving and soon will mourn
She is doomed to be silent during
This is the her final suffering