Silence. I just want silence. Radio static flickers on a broken record spinning at a million miles an hour and no matter how much you slow it down it's always too fast. Silence. Salvation from empty stations and misplaced information twisted by the brain and consumed by the heart. A contortion and distortion of reality from a truth not sharp enough to pierce the veil of falsehood but not dull enough to beat the brazen grip of painful curiosity. What if will always be a question that haunts me. Silence. Uncertainty is a noose around the neck of calm, and some spark explodes like a bomb underwater and away from everything meaningful. A detonation with capacity to harm but the capability of only harming itself. A wandering mind can only be so consumed by a bustling city. I crave silence. Just turn off the white noise, please. Through writing this poetry I have discovered ways to silence the deafening symphony of static and sound around my pleading ears, So not to hear the call of anxiety as strong as once it used to be.

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