Left with but Memories, Alone by the Bard of Bat Yam, Poet Laureate of Zion

the sound of silence grows,
every minute feels like a hour,
every hour feels like a day,
as I sit in in the cold light of morning;

its far too late, too late
to pick up my heart from the floor,
as it lay in pieces,
right where you threw it yesterday night;

little by little,
strangers became friends,
friends became lovers,
and suddenly, lovers became strangers;

I am lying here,
lying next to where you left me in pieces,
can’t move, can’t scream,
with only silence for company;

the tick tock of the clock and,
the beat of my heart grows louder and louder,
shrouded by a mystery,
I feel so alone;

as the melody of love fades into the distance,
the screams of silence is all that remains,
lost in the shadows of life,
I am here, Alone, in a crowded room!