Poetry Prompt: The Cost of Silence by Zanity System

 The cost of silence by Zanity: 

Got a prompt from a friend and couldn't help myself. "Ooops, my hand slipped." 

Years.

Two or three. HAH.

Decades.

The years ticked on,

that's what happens

when you're born in silence. 

Time ticks on

is it cliche to reference

the ticking time bomb? 

It does tick on. 

The cracks the fuse to the bomb. 

Sound breaks through

but the silence endures. 

Sounds break through 

so you start to open doors

unsure of what's on the other side

faced again and again,

with the emptiness within

when you can't speak

and see reflected

that they understand. 

The cost of silence takes that fuse,

instead of a caterpillar entering the cocoon

a bomb is set. 

In the rubble rebuilding can happen

foundations are built. 

All an effort 

because the sound had spilt

over the walls

of ignorance and naivety.

Childhood friends carry on in leap and strides

even those

who had opened your eyes. 

The cost of silence is where you sit

digging yourself out of an invisible pit.

Bomb or cocoon, 

survival and doom

entwined

juxtaposed.

Not all do

but 

...I...

grew. 

The sound comes

I hear it now,

I hear and know

the meaning,

the course of response.

Even when the ticking comes.

The cost of silence was too many friends

of self respect

and all those dead ends. 

The cost of silence is where I grew

I know new things I never new. 

Like how I know

a while ago

a word was soon

supposed to be doom.