The Noise Within the Silence

Early in the morning the mole begins his search.
It searches for grubs to eat.
Scurrioring around the tree of birch,
It looks for veggies or meat.
Suddenly it sees a labour of fellow moles.
It retreats into its burrow in fear.
Its friends don’t know it exists,
Or do, and choose to ignore it.
It looks down at its dripping wrists.
Asking himself if he should quit.
Silence -broken- shouts of ridicule.
It picks up a gun.
It escapes the maze and enters a haze.
Silence -broken- by a shot.
The labour returns the next day.
They continue with their fun.
No sadness to convey.
One less person to shun.
Silence -life moves on- silence.

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