Talking doesn't make you smart, but neither does keeping quiet

Back against the wall of a stony prison,
I debated speech.
No motivation caused a stir within me,
And I remained there, cold and silent.
Conversation, if such absurdity can be given this name,
Failed to interest me,
And I felt my eyes begin to close.
While slipping from this world to the next,
I never made a sound.
Would anyone have noticed if I had?

There are some who believe that speaking
Is worthless and should be used constantly.
They pour their rambling, half-formed thoughts
Upon the world, caring naught for their fellow creatures.
Others, certain less ridiculous,
Savor their words, spilling a mere few,
Rain amid a drought,
Not a thundering storm or flood.

The latter I believed myself to be,
Nurturing neither the thoughts nor the speakers
Whose senseless mouths vomited their
Unfiltered jumbles of nothing.
It was not until I had passed that I learned
The chilling truth:
My voice, long held away from the world,
Had ceased to exist.
My mouth, held open in a silent scream,
Alerted none to my pain, and left me to rot.