Screaming Diaries

There is silence only
in the attic,
Save for the odd scratch
of a mouse, or
thoughts on a plain page.

Forgotten things here
are hidden,
Breathing in the dust
like china dolls, or
beasts in lonely caves.

Time passes, hours and minutes
without any notice,
Just many eyes fixed
on the hatch with
deepest fear and hope.

There is silence only
in the attic,
Save for the odd scratch
of a mouse, or
thoughts on a plain page.

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