I scream but nothing comes out,
my mind keeps twisting my pain into doubt.
I open my mouth just to fucking choke,
every cry for help dies off like smoke.
Trauma got claws and it lives in my head,
it dances through memories, leaves parts of me dead.
It crawls through my veins like a venomous flood,
turning my tears into oceans of blood.
I can’t fucking breathe, I can’t fucking sleep,
the nightmares don’t visit, they bury me deep.
My bed ain’t a bed, it’s a goddamn grave,
where I rot with the ghost of the child I couldn’t save.
I scream in silence till my damn chest aches,
while my soul cracks apart like shattered plates.
Everybody says “talk,” like it’s easy to do,
but the trauma stitched my lips shut tight with glue.
Now I walk through hell with a smile sewn on,
pretending I’m here when my fucking mind’s gone.
My safety got stolen, ripped out of my skin,
and the monsters outside moved comfortably in.
I look in mirrors and don’t know my face,
just some burnt out disaster taking up space.
A porcelain body with fractures that spread,
held together by panic and permanent dread.
And still I scream till my lungs fucking sting,
but silence is the only sound suffering brings.
No echo. No answer. No saving grace.
Just trauma slowly eating me without a trace.
But somewhere beneath all the rot and decay,
a small part of me still refuses to stay
buried beneath all this hurt and despair,
like a dying flame gasping for air.
Maybe one day my voice will break through,
bloody and shaking, but honest and true.
Maybe one day the silence will crack,
and I’ll finally drag my lost soul back.
Until then I scream where nobody sees,
with storms in my chest and ghosts in my knees.
A haunted fucking symphony nobody hears,
built from my trauma, my rage, and my tears.
Sincerely,
The voice trapped inside me