We'll be the silent world

The hungry flames that feed off my misery  
pride themselves in reproducing  
double their amounts per day.  
Yet it seems there isn't quite enough  
Of the blazing orange to
meet the supply of emotion.  
Soon the flames will drown
in my sorrows, maybe then
I’ll be able to sleep.
  
The burning of guilt chars my chest,  
unrestrained flares attempt
to reduce me to ashes.
Never succeeding...
though not for lack of trying. 
Maybe the silence will consume me,  
pressing me back against the mattress.  
Smothering me with unbearable weight,  
chocking me into becoming its ally.
  
I'll become silence itself,  
barely a presence, but there.
Waiting till all the lights are out,  
coming to haunt the terrified;  
saving them in turn,  
forcing them to be like me.
 
They'll be silent too. 
We'll be the silent world.