[I'm submitting this poem to a local writing/art contest, so any comments or constructive criticism would be snazzy wazzy. Thanks!]
You are a steady killer who cannot confess.
Mouth taped shut and eyes wide open,
Your hand (flying, dying, crying all soundlessly)
Has made murder a circumstance,
A footnote—a fact sleeping in trivia.
(Music of truth, we’re bound to never hear you)
I ask you constantly, somewhere between
Eardrum and reality, your motives,
Your meditations and quietly
The reason for your wordless season;
Why you don’t believe in freedom,
Why you never fight for change;
Why your tongue takes lives of innocents,
Why your lies all sound the same.
But all I perceive is your trademarked quote—
I don’t know why I expected more,
Why I ever chose to listen to you
Silence, secret silence, stabbing silence.
Let me break you by saying
I can stand your pseudo-sound no longer.
You are a jailer of justice,
A famine of freedom,
An engine to your own evil—
A creeping killer with shameless eyes.
Causeless convict of mankind,
You’re the mastermind of genocide;
You’ve shattered with shadows
And you’ve taken with pride.
And the worst part is
You’ve done so with no mercy, not
A touch of regret within your airy veins,
Because silence has no emotion,
No tear to soundlessly thunder
Down the atmosphere of its face.
But I swear by every ounce of quiet
This broken world has to offer,
One day I’ll make you speak;
One day I’ll force you to realize
The truth murmuring in your depths—
That no worse fate can the human soul inherit
Than to die by careless silence.