Where Eagles Dare

Silence is a weapon,
Addictive as a drug.
And once you're hooked there's no telling
What you might do.
If you linger long enough in its high,
It takes effect like wildfire,
And you no longer realize that your life
Is slipping sluggishly into the dank recesses
Of the nearest storm drain.

But I didn't know how to use silence at first.
Instead I spoke,
Never once retaining the thoughts
Inside my head.
They spilt from me like
Carrier Pigeons, set free from their
Wooden impediments in a great torrent
Of flapping black and grey paper airplanes.

Fragile as they were, my words
Never faltered of their own accord.
Not once did they give up, and fall limply
To the earth in a pile of charcoal dust.
They were sunburned, and beaten and shat upon
By so many high-flying eagles.
Those bald-headed symbols of terror and violence
That roamed the sky which once was so free and true.
My words were blinded and torn apart
By their unforgiving talons.

I should have known not to cross them.
I should have understood my place,
And never gone so far as I did.
Thoughts meant only for my mind,
and no one else's, these were
Not meant to be spoken aloud,
Especially not to eagles.
For where eagles dare there is none but
Torment and terror,
And those who venture into their domain
Shall burn beneath their inferno eyes.