The Silent One
Very few words,
ever leave his lips.
Secrets, lies, deceit,
buried within.
He could cry,
but he won't.
He was created,
into what he is.
His face,
is expressionless.
Never showing any,
emotions.
Very rarely expressing them,
at that.
Silence.
It's what fills his time.
Always contemplating something.
Or perhaps trying to forget.
Trying to remember.
Such horrible things, and such wonderful things.
Torture and pain.
Happiness and bliss.
all tied in knots,
So as not to bring one,
Without the other.
So maybe he thinks of nothing.
Sitting still.
Then looking at the floor.
Seeing a puddle,
where tears have fallen.
Surprised at it.
Slightly smirking,
In the absence of his sister.
Killing as if it were nothing.
She'd disapprove,
she did not want him fighting.
The war was over,
he had no reason to.
So now what was he to do?
He could not stay in this room.
A moment more and he'd go crazy.
He didn't like being alone.
It left him too much free time.
Time that his past tried to,
lets say, reattach in his mind.
He didn't want it.
They say "take the good with the bad,"
he would not.
If the person knew the memories,
hidden in his head,
there wouldn't be a quote like that.
Still it might intrigue,
any normal person.
To try and find out,
why he is the way he is.
No one will ever find out; probably,
because the secrets of his past,
come along with the destruction of his mind.