I like for you to be still
—Pablo Neruda
(he rarely tried
and only barely)
every day he spoke
only the nothing
no one listened
the nothing ended
still not alone
but still mostly still
in the end
was only the end
nothing helped
not even silence
—————[|||]—————
Imaginary Garden / Real Toads
———[||]———
Scrambled, Not Fried 
Gosh this is so poignant. I can’t even imagine what these poor souls must endure .. 😦 thank you for writing to the prompt.
Your poem is timeless … and perfectly composed.
Was he mute from birth or did he choose to be, and if so, why? I sense sadness and despair in the final lines.
I too am puzzled. Was he mute from birth or did he make the choice? Sadness in the poem for sure.
Why speak when there nothing to say and no one that listens. But thoughts still remain and speak loudly within that silence.
This poem reminds me so much of my very stoic grandfather who rarely tried in his later years, keeping his silence.
Awful being never-alone with no-one-who-listens…
That is an intriguing write Ron. Strong sense of loneliness, isolation… gripping.
…and so many elderly end up just being quiet as no one listens to them anymore… an old person said that a while back… made me think “how sad”
What a mysterious story there must be underlying this. Well done!
This makes me think of myself. I grew up screaming through my laughter, but no one heard the pain.