White space.

Not white noise
Because there was no noise to put a color to.

White space

Because everything I could see and touch
Blurred together until
Everything became nothing.
Nothing but me and the news.
The news was a paperweight,
I a stray scrap of paper.
I tried to fly away but knew I couldn’t.
My edges wrinkled and tore,
I could feel my soul rip itself to shreds
In the wind of my distress.
But silent I stayed.

Silent

Because talking would make it real.

Silent

Because if I disturbed the sound
The already delicate balance would tip
And I would crumble.
So I kept my
Stormandsoundandchaos
Inside
Fighting to keep my physical self a statue.