Elevator Pitch

I quietly let in the unknown
To the small world of my own;
They quietly step in and stand still
Take small steps until I fill.
They all seem too close and yet too far,
Here there is a silent war.
Stare takes over while Voice is dead;
All words spent or forbidden instead.
But I never put into paper
That sounds would be improper.
For I, myself, would sound once or twice,
To tell my his and goodbyes.
And they would answer in hurried steps
As others wait in the doorsteps,
To see the small world of my own,
I quietly let in the unknown.