The cry of silence: so sharp, so deafening,
Piercing my ears in the bliss of night.
Waiting for the vacant whispers to sing,
Or watching for the reluctant flickers of light.
I hold still in the weightless cocoon,
Barely a breath I let form a plea.
Hoping for the sun to rise again soon,
Before the darkness wholly envelops me.
My eyes trace the shadows of ghosts,
And their tacit will to move unseen.
I feel like the shell of an unwanted host,
Counting breaths for the first ray to gleam;
Praying for light to burst at the seam.
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