I cry out, but there’s no sound.

Just silent cries of pain and sorrow.

Afraid of those that’ll hear my cries.

Afraid they’ll pity me for the weakness.

So silently I cry, but there is no sound.

Avoiding the questions they like to ask.

Is there something wrong? Are you ok?

As if my cries are those of happiness and joy.

There is nothing that I tend to hate more.

Of course something is wrong. No, I’m not ok.

But I’ll keep it to myself anyway.

These silent cries of sorrow and pain.

 

 

Image: BelleDeesse

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