Eryn Saunders

Unknown

In the silence of morning when the world still sleeps,

I carry the weight of words no one keeps.

My thoughts are a river, they stream without tide.

Feeling silenced and misunderstood, no matter how I tried.

In crowded rooms, my voice becomes but a ghost,

Lost in the clamor, never truly engrossed.

I reach out with silence, with gestures and sighs, my eyes darting and pleading up to the skies.

Yet my true essence seems to vanish from their eyes.

 

The mirror reflects a face that they never seem to see,

Me, a tapestry of emotions they can’t quite believe.

I paint my heart on canvas, in differing hues of sorrow and grace,

But the colors blend into shadows, lost in their chase.

 

Each attempt to explain feels like a fragile plea,

Drowned in the noise of their own certainty.

Yet, I persist, ever so small,

Still seeking understanding, through the silence of it all.

I wander through days with a burdened soul,

Wishing for my empathy to make me whole.

In the endless quest for connection, where truth is obscure,

I remain, a misread story, longing to be understood and somehow remain pure.