That many wretched thing...
Killing slowly, killing softly.
Those judgmental cold eyes,
Not a word is heard, not one uttered,
But a thousand trumpets have sounded none the less,
Inaudible, yet so loud they make the soul shake,
The alarm is set off,
The death penalty issued.
It hurts, the poison of silence hurts,
Under those cold silent eyes of yours,
Like a syringe they pierce,
Every breath I take,
Every motion, every step,
When I lie, or when I wake,
They are watching, they are watching,