Poem : Mice In The Attic

These days it seems
There are mice in my attic
In my walls
Under my floor
Scurrying about
These mice remind me more and more of the people I see
Well, people remind me of these mice
Moving
Looking
Tiptoeing with tiptoes of quiet
Not wanting to step too loudly
Dancing around subjects of discomfort
With silence
With whispers
With perfection
For if they
Shriek too sharply with shrill sounds that shiver my spine
I would know
I would hear what they were saying
And this, would not do
So they walk and talk
And gossip among themselves
And spread their disease
Quiet like the mice in my attic
In my walls
Under my floor