This is a poem I wrote a couple of months back. It’s a bit morbid towards the end and definitely not my best but my creative writing posts seem to do well.
Is anything ever really, truly quiet?
Even if you are alone,
even if everyone else is sleeping,
Even if it’s the middle of the night and you can hear virtually nothing,
You must still be able to hear something.
The constant, quiet beating of your heart in your chest
A reminder that you are breathing
The wind, floating past a window
Waiting for the morning to carry the birds and the bugs to their destinations
And your own thoughts, talking to nobody in particular, yet demanding your attention
Never letting you stop thinking
To be truly quiet would be to stop thinking, stop breathing, stop feeling the wind
To be truly quiet would be to die.
Thanks for reading! All photos by me, please ask permission before use!
– Sophie xx