When I was younger the world was loud.
I look outside and I see them laughing,
Yet no sound reaches my ears.
Maybe they are not laughing,
Maybe their mouths are being contorted by some unknown force.
Maybe they are forcefully trying to push air out from their hollowed lungs.
Maybe their eyes are crinkled with the pain of an unspoken plea.
Maybe they are not laughing at all,
Maybe they are screaming,
Maybe I should go outside...
Who would water the plants?
It's been so long, what if it's changed out there?
I lost my jacket and shoes years ago,
What if they were just laughing?
I think I'll stay inside.
You know, when I was younger the world was loud.
But now as I walk the halls of this wooden house,
Making memories of strangers,
I can't even remember the last time I heard a sound.
Did people stop speaking,