The Silence

By Arbia Enam

The books laid dead on my cupboard shelves.

Pages scattered, ink bled itself.

Stained bedsheet, wet pillow cases.

Crumpled sheets of paper, 

with half written phrases.

Cold food, spilled drinks.

Lights flickered, as time blinked.

The night I murdered, me-

the only bait, in that large sea.

Red ran through my mind, 

while my wrist bled.

Five minutes,

and I was there, laying dead.

Pillows muffling my voice.

The bed soaking my blood.

A scribbled sheet of paper in hand,

with some flooded words.

The food rotted, the water seeped to the floor.

Those thoughts, the hallucinations

my mind could no longer hold.

Time stood still, while my body turned cold.

The mess was great, but mine was greater.

So I killed myself, 

became my own traitor.

After years of unfiltered torments,

those voices became too loud bear.

Bleeding through my brain,

it became harsh to my ears.

I couldn't endure it any longer.

So, I got rid of that fear.

And while the red mixed with the spilled water.

It finally, became a lot quieter.

By Arbia Enam