Trapped Voice

Often, I observe the lives everyday people live.

Happiness fills their every moment.

Are they really happy? Are they hiding something?

Do they ever feel that acidic emotion?

It’s as if no one but a single person suffers,

drowning for help, pleading for someone,

endlessly sobbing for one person

to eventually understand.

This acid painfully burns the living’s mind and soul,

leaving a gaping tunnel in its path,

where experiences are echoed.  

Each experience grows into an indescribable torture,

something more to endure. . .

His eyes mirror his deep pain; his words correlate.

“ I am depressed.”

What does it mean?

Has this pain tormented him too long that it’s finally become describable?

Unfortunately, my voice becomes imprisoned by my modest mind,

echoed against my teeth, tongue, and thoughts, but not the air outside me.

My trapped voice restrains me from being the one person

who finally understood.