Silence That Screamed
She sat in shadows, lips sewn tight,
a child erased beneath the night.
Her voice was caged, her throat was stone,
her silence louder than a groan.
The world saw smiles, but not the scars,
her whispers trapped behind locked bars.
She should have spoken, should have cried,
but terror taught her tongue to hide.
Her silence was a battlefield,
a wound that time could never heal.
Yet in that hush, a strength was born,
a quiet rage, a vow of scorn.
Years went by, the silence stayed,
but inside her, a storm was made.
Now grown, she speaks, her voice a flame,
to burn the coward, curse his name.
Her silence was not weakness, no
it was survival, pain’s tableau.
And when she spoke, the world could see:
her silence screamed her history.
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