Why cant you hear me?
My voice isn’t silent—
it echoes off walls that refuse to answer.
I speak in plain words,
not riddles, not whispers,
yet somehow I disappear mid-sentence—
like I was never there at all.
I say that hurts,
and the hurt keeps happening.
I say I miss you,
and the distance grows louder.
I stand in rooms I’ve built with my own hands,
feed mouths, tend life, hold everything together—
yet I am the ghost in my own home.
Not invisible…
just unseen where it matters most.
Why can’t they hear me?
Or do they hear me—
and just don’t care enough to stop?
I am not whispering.
I am not subtle.
I have said it plain, said it broken, said it bleeding—
that hurts.
And still—
you do it again.
Mid-sentence, I vanish.
Not because I’m quiet—
but because you decide I don’t matter.
A screen lights up.
A show drowns me out.
My words fall to the floor like something spilled
no one bothers to clean.
I say I miss you—
you make plans without me.
I ask for time—
you give it to anyone else.
Do you know what that does to a person?
To be standing right there—
and still be treated like absence?
I am so tired
of begging for basic human decency
like it’s some luxury I haven’t earned.
I am so tired
of being strong enough to carry everything
and still not worth being considered.
This isn’t miscommunication.
This is neglect with eye contact.
This is hearing me—
and choosing not to respond.
So don’t tell me to speak up.
Don’t tell me to say it softer or louder or kinder—
I have said it every way a human can say it
without screaming.
And maybe that’s what’s left—
Not because I’m weak…
but because you’ve pushed me
to the edge of my own voice.
I won’t ask again.
Not softer.
Not louder.
Not in ways you might finally understand.
I’ve said enough
to prove I meant it.
What you did with it—
that was your answer.
I see it now, clearly,
without the hope blurring the edges.
I was never too quiet.
You were just comfortable
not listening.
So I’m done shaping myself
into something easier to ignore.
Done waiting for basic care
to arrive like a favor.
Done standing in rooms
where my presence
is optional to everyone but me.
You can keep the noise,
the screens,
the half-answers and empty space.
I’m taking what you never noticed—
my time,
my energy,
my voice.
And I won’t raise it
to reach you anymore.
If you hear the silence I leave behind,
good.
If you don’t—
that tells me everything
I finally needed to know.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
