Its inky blackness surrounds us, cloaking us in velvety shadow.
It is a friend.
Someone to return to when the monsters storm and rage.
It accepts us and our tales, it has heard it all before.
We always return to our friend that will hide us.
The friend that will be quiet and just hold us.
The darkness would not hurt us, even if it could.
No, the darkness is there to hide us from the monsters we can't see.
No, the darkness is our friend.
In the darkness we can't see monsters only, darkness.
YOU ARE READING
I Am Mute
PoetryI am mute but these are my words. My interpretation of life, death, love, and everything else in between. Starting with a poem inspired by a few lines in the book the silver star. And other little tidbits that might not mean that much to you, but if...
