Stillness Burns

The voices bled into a wall of sound, No names, no faces — just a crowd. Mornings broke like shattered glass, And every step just came too fast. He stood in halls too loud to breathe, Where nothing touched and none could see. While others danced in social skies, He mapped the silence with his eyes. And when they laughed, he learned the sound. When they moved, he marked the ground. Not out of fear, but to survive — He watched the chaos, stayed alive. Stillness burns where fire once screamed, No applause, no light, no dream. But steel is born where noise can’t stay — He turned the world by looking away. Not a saint, not made to shine — But he stood… And held the line. He learned to breathe through sharpened air, To track a lie in every stare. The jokes, the games — just scripted play, He saw the code beneath their way. They called him distant, strange or cold, But never knew what he controlled. He built a tower, brick by brick, From shattered mornings, tired and thick. The storm returned. It always will. The shouting, static, endless drill. But now — he doesn’t flinch or sway, He lets it come, then walks away. Stillness burns — and no one sees The strength it takes to not just be. To hear the noise, and not collapse, To find a map where none relaxed. No crowd, no crown, no ending sign — But still… He held the line.