An odd sort of Poetry

The People In The Hall

The people within talk.
In their loudness, there is a lovely silence.
The people within worry and worry, and work and work.

The people in the hall, they speak in hushed whispers.
The hushed whispers are so loud that I cover my ears.
The people in the hall worry and worry, and work and work.

In the midst of the worry, I close my eyes and fade away,
The People in the Hall haunting my empty mind eternally.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s