SOS
Say something;
your silence scars my skin,
shatters my soul,
strains my skull,
stretches out my suffering and
snowballs my syndrome.
Out loud;
your opinion is not obvious,
openness not optional,
obligation not obsolete,
only your opposition to the occasion is
orchestrating this onslaught.
Speak;
I scream and shout,
shriek and screech,
sob and solicit,
still, you stay shut-off and silent and
strike me speechless, too.
Copyright © Vaviana Young | Year Posted 2025
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