No Sound but, So loud
When I was younger I was always quiet, no sounds, no noises.
He would tell me not to tell anyone.
I screamed on paper as the paper became wet. The paper became my best friend.
Time went on and writing
became no longer.
Anxiety became stronger.
As I screamed at people instead of paper, they didn't understand me because i didn't understand myself.
Today, June twentieth two-thousand eighteen I understand myself once again.
Hello my old friend.
No tears, no anxiety, just the understanding of myself.
No sound, but so loud.
Something wrong with this poem?
Replies are closed for this poem.
If you or someone you know is struggling, you are not alone.
988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline — call or text 988, 24/7. Crisis Text Line — text HELLO to 741741.
Your Poem's Voice
See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.
Comments (3)
Comments are closed for this poem.