Introduction
Sometimes, the quiet isn’t empty.
Sometimes, it carries you, like a pulse behind the walls.
Here, in the hush, I watch.
Here, in the stillness, I breathe.
Here, I am seen, even when no else is.
— Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ
Between Walls and Whispers (Ghost and Witness)
Pᵒᵉᵗʳʸ bʸ Rᵒᵒ ᵗʰᵉ Pᵒᵉᵗ
Sometimes, I find myself
surrounded in silence—
not absence,
but a quiet hum behind the walls.
The room feels full,
but nobody’s really there,
and I am both ghost
and witness—
drifting, endless,
caught in this forced flow
of normalcy.
A weirdo,
misfit, outcast—
purposeful outsider,
rejector of the machine.
I don’t want to be another cog.
Sometimes, I long for silence—
not the absence,
but that gentle presence,
a pulse softer
than the endless hum.
And in that silence, I breathe.
I am seen,
I am held,
not by voices or eyes,
but by the quiet
that understands
what the hum
cannot touch.
If you’re looking for more poetry, you can find it here → [The Library of Ashes]
Poetry by Rowan Evans 