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Silence

A Poem About Growth

By Ann HerroldPublished 5 years ago 2 min read
Silence
Photo by Camila Quintero Franco on Unsplash

Silence

Silence is the most powerful scream

Listen

Experience the waves of history

Forever in it’s making

A path appears where all life walks

There are no masquerades except for behind your back door

A house is not a home unless it has nourishment for the mind as well as body

Your body is an instrument, tune it well

Exercise the mind with even more vigor

Keeping close, man makes a small package

Knowledge may be the principal of your belief

But education cannot teach you experience

If hell has room for one just sinner

Then may beauty beat the beast

Slumbering deep within

Happiness does not simply happen

But the best happiness is in simplicity

Keeping idle is just as putrid as silence

If breaking it means listening to the screams,

Joining them

Making them heard

Then so be it-there is no exist

Flame is known for its company

Idle hands make ill

Sometimes silence is the most beautiful thing of all,

Like a sunrise or a dream

Yet as dreaming can lead to being dangerous so can standing idle

Dancing as cobblers of destiny

We must be careful to wear the proper size of shoe

Rather than try to fill empty places and widen others

Klider machen Leute

Those who roam nude have little influence

Just like those who shine in the moonlight and melt in the sun

Everything comes to an end in one perspective

Even chickens

Don’t let the old lady scream, age has nothing to do with denial

Admiration is the sharpener of love in its absence

Any fool can critique

Idle silence is as toxic as idle words

Words create a scar silence won’t heal

Ignorance is not a sin as unwilling to morph

A square man cannot fit in a sphere

He will boil over

With peace comes a price

The lambs won’t always keep silent

From the pigment of our powder

Tremble the words

“God helps those who help themselves”

Those who wait for the sun to rise with their mouths gaping open with a silent scream

Leave behind shallow dust

Before we get old

It may be too late to be wise

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About the Creator

Ann Herrold

A freelance writer that shares her experience with PTSD, trauma, depression, life, and love. Part of the LGBTQIA+ community, master procrastinator, bog goblin and expert pie eater.

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