It is the blindness of our ears.
It is the basis for our fears.
It’s what you hear when no one’s there.
It’s that non-existent shriek of terror.

It screams aloud without a sound.
It’s voices heard when no one’s ‘round.
It is what is said in a lover’s scorn.
It’s the final warning before the storm.

It’s the noise you hear; the bump in the night.
It will make a child shake with fright.
It is a haven for all the crazed.
It’s where voices speak, reality’s hazed.

It is a terror this immortal silence.
‘Tis more deadly than is violence.
It is in death that she triumphs.
She’s a victor known as Silence.

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