Helpless, alone,

forced into solitary.

Confined

from the best of humanity.

Fists, words

flying, cutting, bruising

my flesh, my mind,

disfiguring my view

of my own reflection.

I would give it all

to be noticed.

Inside, I scream,

but I go unheard.

To them, I am nothing.

I am a hindrance, a nuisance.

My voice is muffled

by the sea of soulless faces.

Monsters

in the dark.

Their whispers tighten

around my throat.

"You are nothing,"

they say.

"You have no voice, no choice."

But I do have a voice.

From my prison

I have a voice.

I don't retaliate.

I fight in silence.

My prayers are heard.

My lips may be sealed,

but my thoughts

they rush forward.

This cascade,

this voice,

spawned from a pit

of nothingness.

I know now

that I have a voice.