Silence. A cruel weapon.
Once so petrified of loss
To Cancer, the thief;
Now you bury me alive-
Pile the gravestones high
And petrify your soul.
No mourning; no weeping,
No flowers; no wreaths.
Only the sound of gravel
That falls instead of tears
To suffocate my memory
And obturate your ache.
Quiet. Hollow man.
Oh, silent, shallow man...
It is your own tomb you build.
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