Void

Rosey

I scream, but not to be heard.

but to hurt something.

The void.

Myself.

Anything that breathes.

It just stares.

Mocking.

Like it knows

I’ll tear my own throat

before it blinks.

I hate it.

I hate me more.

Every sound I make

comes back wrong

comes back twisted,

proof I was never worth listening to.

If silence is power,

then I’ve already lost.

I scream again

just to prove

I still can.

And it still goes unheard.

Get a free collection of Classic Poetry ↓

Comments +

sorenbarrett June 22nd, 2025 06:50
Desperation in the suit of depression a poem crying out to a deaf world. Well penned

To be able to comment and rate this poem, you must be registered. Register here or if you are already registered, login here.