Screaming Without Sound

I was young when I learned how to disappear. Smile through the fear.

Wipe away the tears. Hands that promised love left marks on my skin.

Words cut deeper than the places they hit. My children learn silence before they

learn sleep. Used like weapons just to keep me weak. I cried for

help, but the walls stayed still. They said, "It can't be

that bad," but it was. I wore long sleeves and practiced lies,

carried shame I didn't earn or buy. I was breaking while

the world looked on and nobody listened, nobody listened.