The Art of Silence

Been a so silent.
Like a wind, touching your skin.
Feel it minted.
The feeling of being busted.

But the story is not about the young lady.
Ain't even about getting baby.
But a melancholic song, so lonely.
Getting alcoholic, not buddy.

The numbers are six.
The location is below.
The venue is ground.
Then he succumb to death, down low.

For the last time hear me.
For eternity guard me.
Everyday i pray.
The book ended but not the play.