We speak aloud,
Not shout out loud,
But whisper together with one another.

Behind our hands,
Or between the shelves,
In the quiet section at the library

We chanter away,
Repeating our mournful murmur
The repetition does excite us so.

FOR WHEN WE SHOUT,
WE CAN LET IT ALL OUT,
TO EXPLODE AND SCARE ALL THE OLD FOLK!

Want to comment on this Poetry? Sign up to Edit Red and you will be able to comment on Poetry and get access to: Upload your own stories and poems, get readers and their feedback, promote your work...