I can hear screaming coming from somewhere
Probably the television downstairs.
And all I can think about, all I can feel,
Is that I wish I was involved.
I wish I was there,
Screaming and crying at the top of my lungs,
Tears hot and running down my face, howling at something.
I wish I was wailing til my throat bled
and my lips cracked and my bones shattered.
But I am just sitting here in silence
Writing a novel out of thoughts
that leak through a pen instead of my eyes.
Sometimes quietness wraps around your heart and keeps you warm and other times it takes hold of your vocal chords and doesn’t let go til you’re dead.