deepundergroundpoetry.com

Scream

   
They say    
screaming    
is good for the    
soul. I    
can't take back all the    
classes I've    
walked out of, or the    
friends who've    
left me for their own    
vindication, but oh,    
can I scream.    
   
I spend a lot of time    
screaming; most of the    
day, waking or un. I    
scream while the    
teacher's talking, on    
quiet bus rides home, while I'm    
painting a face on for my    
therapist. I    
even scream in my sleep with my    
eyes wide open.    
   
It's all in my    
head, they'd have me know,    
when I can't deliver    
speech or look    
anyone in their    
eyes, but I'll have you    
know that I am, in fact,    
talking - no, screaming -    
at you. Why can't you    
hear me? In these words, my    
lungs are fucking    
collapsing trying to get    
someone in this    
haze of paranoia and self-    
incarceration to just fucking    
hear    
me    
out.
   
   
   
   
There's a point where    
I've screamed so    
much inside this cerebral    
prison that I think even my    
own soul has gone  
deaf to the sound of it.  
Written by GraveyardBard (Mr. Addams)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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