The Silence Why are you so quiet? Why are you so still? Won't ask you these questions, Scared you might be ill. Can tell something’s wrong, But I don't won't to ask. You might hurt my feelings, Like times in the past. You're not one to holler, You’re not one to shout. You hold things inside you And you won't let them out. Is it something I've said? Is it something I've done? I hate when you're like this, It is not much fun. If only you'd say, Why you're feeling this way We wouldn't have the silence. That wastes our day. By: Donna Lynn Eaton |