Ah, what a persistent thing

That flutters in on its battered wings

It hardly even makes a sound

As it settles gently on the ground

But oh, how it changes its air

One second naught, the other it’s there

I sit happily with pen in hand

When the world fazes through
to a different brand

Plunged into darkness, violently,
suddenly, gray

Head in hands, gripping, tearing, blue

Screaming out, viciously, brutally, red

Staring forward, numbing, nothing, black

It stares at me with a savage light

Dancing, and dazzling delicately behind
its black eyes

It tells me all these evil things

It brings them with its tattered wings

Evil foul, this thing it is

It poisons me with a dark abyss

It calls it truth, but with such a bitter taste

How can a truthful life be wasted
with such haste?

I use my words to push it out

I dance, I fight, and I scream and shout

I take all the pots and pans,

And I bang and I clash 

With my one-person band

But still once more, like some wicked spell

It invites itself in, and with it comes Hell

The second the noise fades away

The second the night closes in on day

When I pause to take a breath

When I close my eyes for some needed rest

When I pick up a feathered quill

When I no longer can find my will

I hear nothing as it sails in

I only see it, with its impossible grin

It does not smile, but of course

You see it in its eyes, so malevolent
and morose

And it flutters up near my face

And it pecks me, it makes me a disgrace

It whispers so low into my ear

And it implants all these things, all these fears

But in a way, it never succeeds

The absent words, the quiet heeds

I have only come to fear one thing

I fear this bird, and its wicked stings

I fear this bird and all its soundless malice

I fear this bird, this bird called silence