Poetry

It might drive you mad

When all is quiet 
Nothing it all
All can be heard
But there is nothing
To be heard

The silence in a room
Rather a room with nothing
What would be heard?
When there is nothing else to be heard?

Could the flow of your blood
Sound like the flowing of a stream?
The beating of your heart,
Comparable to the beating drum

If you moved your arm,
Perhaps you could hear the compression
And depression of your muscles

Maybe you could even
Hear yourself think

It might drive you mad
Something you’re not supposed to hear

Your body making noise,
And to leave the room
To only hear more silence

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