It’s quiet, as if noise became overwhelmed

with being heard and buried itself in

a secret closet.

Safe from human ears weighing down upon it.

Avoiding the disappointment of becoming a

misheard word.

Apprehensive of the expectation of what it’s

supposed to be.

So noise softly runs away to a place where

nothing hears so no one can

question its worth.

A place where noise goes to rest and leaves

the world in utter silence.

And all I can hear is the feeling of my heart

pumping blood through my veins.