There is silence
And there is tolerance,
There is patience
And a past that is tense;
Rattling, clanging,
Shaking and quaking,
Behind the doors
Shut forever and more;
The ghosts are flying,
Pulling and quivering,
For the taste of blood - screaming,
For the great release - teeming;
It can stay there
Where one pretends nonexistence,
It can stay there
Where one thinks far from the fence;
Things no one knows the truth of,
Things that will die with you,
Things that one wonders about,
Things one wishes were never true.
