St Patrick's Day and a poem

[vicioussweetie]

I think that if anyone hands me another green drink, I'm going to be very sick. Also, I think I don't want to see another cabbage for as long as I live. Or at least until next Tuesday.

But! I have written a poem, and aswim in liquid courage as I am, I shall share it.

Sedatephobia

When there is nothing else to fear,
The quiet, too, can break your heart--
But that depends on what you hear.

Heartbeats ring out bright and clear,
Each alone to stand apart
When there is nothing else to fear

But the silence so severe.
Some say that stillness is an art,
But that depends on what you hear

In time spent in a world austere;
What inner comforts must depart
When there is nothing else to fear?

It's revelries you shall revere,
Such noise in which thought may depart;
But that depends on what you hear.

The constant noise is your veneer;
The place you think courage will start
When there is nothing else to fear--
But that depends on what you hear.

No, I don't know why I wrote about the fear of silence, I just did okay? And if it's not okay, it's too late now.