The Quiet One

For shame,
for shame, I sigh
for the pages never listen
nor comprehend.
The ink of my pen
is of my blood
yet the pages see no injury
and though my tears fall
they recognize no pain.
I attempt to articulate
my unseen ailment
my invisible wound
but the language it forms
is not my own
nor of this world
too complex to decipher
I go unheard
and my screams
are so loud
they wash themselves out
and I remain silent
No one shall ever know
as I swallow my pain
cut it out
and use it for ink
the silence forever
sealed in pristine pages
I cease to speak and be alone.