Everyone wants love; justice; peace and the like
But who will stand to avenge these things?
The loudest cries are the ones no one hears
But who will listen?
Who will pay attention to their unseen tears?
Their silent pleas?
Do you remember what it feels like
To die inside? And no one pays attention?
No one pays attention to the zombie apocalypse
Full of those who have life in their bodies
But death in their eyes.
They walk and talk, but they cease to feel
Anymore.
But who will listen?
Who will hear our silent groans
And see our invisible waterfalls of grief?
Who will listen? Who will see?
Who will walk with the dead
And revive them again?
YOU ARE READING
Thoughts in Bold Ink
PoetryDuring these teen years, I am at the door way between childhood and adulthood. As I take these baby steps, I don't ever want to leave behind pieces of me that I'm discovering, nor should I ever leave behind who I must always be. As I close the door...
