The Killing Of Thrones

January 16, 2009
By Ian Nairn, Kettering, OH

Silence is golden, surely solely in dreams,
Surely only in safety, ironic it seems,
That silence is sanguine rapture that screams.

Softly I wept, until fin’lly I slept,
In the tomb of sounds gone away.
And although I was certain, a figment this curtain,
I soon found my conscience to blame.

For all that I’d done, one hundred and one,
Breakers of silence I’d slain.


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