Some people are crows
they CAW CAW CAW
to needlessly declare their existence.
They force their noise
into the ears of all around them.
The crows are so loud
they can’t hear.
The People around them
are crying out
in pain.
For the world,
for their loved ones,
for themselves.
In the end,
ignored.

Their pain ends in death;
the crows know
no other way.
They feed off the dead,
eating up the evidence
of their error,
to keep feeding their noise.

Then,
these brash, selfish crows,
become road kill.
To be eaten up
by the People
to feed the cries of pain
from the People.
Till the People
become louder and louder
and they turn into crows,
and their noise becomes

useless.

A vicious cycle.

I end the cycle.

I am a mouse
that silently scurries about in your walls,
leaving behind evidence of my existence
for you to find,
only after I’ve left.

I wreak havoc on your world,
as you know it.
You may lay out traps
to capture me,
to exterminate me.
I’m different.
I’m clever.
I snatch the cheese away,
unscathed.

You sit baffled by my antics,
my stratagem of life;
while I contentedly munch away
at my spoils of war.

Silly crows.
I’ve learned to steer clear
of electric cables
of shocking lies.
I surround myself
with the truth and comfort
of old clothes and pillow stuffing.
They won’t betray me.

I am a mouse
because I do not need
the noises of life to survive.
I do not need to yell,
“Here I am!”
to know
“I am here.”
My silence is my noise
without it I’d be dead.

I am a mouse,
a little mouse,
in your big, loud world.
I am pleased for my existence
to have an existence.
I do not need to contend
to get what I want.
I expect
nothing
from your world.
I am never boastful
always gentle;
sticking to what I believe.
And when the noise disappears
I will be heard
in my own
silent
way

because that’s who I am.