There is a quiet that I love,
when all I hear is the ticking of the clock
and the lush sounds of birds awakening.
I’m left to my own thoughts,
allowing them to run free,
to go where they need to go.
That’s the kind of quiet I love.
It’s what I crave for my soul’s peace.
But there is another kind of quiet,
where the silence weighs heavily upon me
The kind of quiet that is not chosen.
but rather imposed,
when your very existence is not acknowledged.
When you are immersed in that kind of quiet,
it feels less like a gift to yourself
and more like a sentence to be served out.
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