A poem entitled A Silent Thing


A Silent Thing

I am in mourning

But not like a widow standing before a shiny new stone

I am weeping, but not because of my own sadness

I am lamenting for you

Once you had my loyalty

My love and my esteem and my honesty

And now you have a void

Filled with false, almost nonexistent fealty

I would speak to you of all of this

If I thought for a moment you would listen

But really that would be a selfish plea for change

And for those of us who know Ending

We know that when something is truly over

It is a silent thing

I thought that if this ever came to its expiration

Dramatic, deadly harbingers of doom would be seen

I thought it would be an apocalypse

With burning comets falling from the sky

But the end does not come in fire and ice

As so often has been implied

It comes with something that should inspire far more fear

The end comes in cold degrees of apathy

And it is already here


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