• My house is silent as the world inside a shell. My sisters are sleeping, my mother is off working, my brother is somewhere else, and I am here in the rocking chair, typing. Shhhh, listen. The house makes noises. I hear, the fridge, the computer, the lamp, the walls crack intermittently. Silence is not as it seems. Perhaps silence is merely lack of voices. Perhaps quiet is not lack of sound, but lack of motion that makes sound. In this case, my house is still, quiet, and silent. But if you listen, and there is always something to hear.

• I like your poem.Its creepy in a good way.You are good at writing poems.

  blackveilbride16on August 05, 2010   Link

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