When they were born, he was humbled quiet,
his heart taking seed in that fresh ground, quiet.

Much of the turmoil in his mind settled,
until even his feelings did sound quiet;

and when they were taken, to his own shame,
instead of protest they only found quiet.

The sapling he had been, grown in lush soil,
infertile now, withered with profound quiet.

Far too late, he begged for their love returned,
pleading tears until they were drowned, quiet.

This offense, his only true legacy,
Brendon’s mouth twisted up, bound. Quiet.