Melancholy Poetry

Scream of Silence

I often look into my mirror and scream.
Not just any scream, however.
My screams are a scream of silence, trapped inside my throat.
They are silent pleas for a push or a pull out of my self-placed darkness.
They. Are. Anger.

Each scream becomes more quiet then the last.
Each yelp is pushed further into my throat.
If I force them out they will claw to stay down.
They will protest against my heart's mind.

And speaking of my heart, why is it broken?
Why does it feel less than my body?
Why can't it find solace in my life story?
It speaks to me, asking me to please use it so it can feel good enough and worthy of my body.
But without my soul's confirmations no amount of my words will piece it back into my bodies existence.

Speaking of existence why am I so alone with a plethora of genuine friends?
Why can't I scream for their help?
Why. Why! WHY!

I don't want to breathe in dark air that will punish me.
I don't want to face the faces of my mind that will laugh at me.
I don't want my heart to feel that feeling of "not good enough" and "unworthy".

But I don't want help!
I don't want to be that burden.
I don't want to be the drag down of my second family.
I want to laugh genuinely without feeling guilt towards my heart.
I want to listen to their problems and help them.
I want to be their strength even though I will have none left.

So I watch the mirror and let her, the girl in my vision, scream.
The mirror always cracks but will never break because of the body she inhabits.
I watch her as she screams.
Watch her as she cries.
Watch her as she angers.
Watch her as she vanishes.
And I hold her inside.