What’s Left Unsaid
Beneath the clamor of a thousand tongues,
Where silence like a phantom clings and clung,
There lies a shadow deeper than the grave—
The weight of words we dared not brave.
In corridors where echoes sleep,
The unsaid truths in darkness creep,
A whispered hint, a fleeting glance,
The lost refrain of circumstance.
A silence held for fear of pain,
A truth too sharp, like acid rain,
Would tear the fragile veil of peace,
And drown the calm in fierce release.
The lies of omission are well-disguised,
Not spoken, yet they mesmerize.
A careful dance, a muted song,
The hidden truth feels almost wrong.
For who can face the blazing light
When truth emerges, bold and bright?
It blinds, it scars, it sears the heart,
And tears the fragile world apart.
Yet, still it waits, relentless, stark,
A beast that prowls within the dark.
Unspoken words grow claws, then teeth,
Their silence shelters poison beneath.
What’s left unsaid can twist the air,
A choking fog, a silent snare.
The half-told tale, the part concealed,
Becomes a wound that never heals.
Some say the truth is a sword unsheathed,
A power too great to be unleashed.
Yet what is life but a fragile thread,
Woven of truths we leave unsaid?
A hidden sin, a quiet shame,
A fire burning without a flame,
The weight grows heavy, hour by hour,
A mountain built by silent power.
And still, we leave it locked away,
Fearing the light of judgment’s day.
The fragile peace, the woven lie,
The unspoken words we let slip by.
But in the quiet of the night,
Where shadows waver, soft with fright,
The truth calls out, a mournful cry,
Demanding voice before we die.
For silence, too, can wield its knife,
A cutting absence that takes a life.
It festers, deepens, claims its prey,
The things unsaid will find their way.
So, dare we speak? Or let it lie—
The buried truths, the whispered why?
The choice is ours, and yet the cost
Is what’s unsaid—and what is lost.
