Huddled Mass

This huddled mass of flesh,
trembling with every breath.
Alone in the silence and cold of night.
Salty rivers flow from its eyes.
loney silence encompasses the flesh,
strangles it, makes it almost impossible to breath.
The quiet sobbing of a dying, bleeding heart,
is the only sound not stolen by the sufficating silence.
A sound so soft and faint,
only its soul can hear.
Flesh's breath fades gradually,
as the silence tightens its grip.
No one hears the scream of the heart.
Flesh becomes nothing, silence has won.
Not even the heart can cry now.