i scream.
and i always scream for help,
upbringing
the silent cries
muted voices,
constant noises
ringing
inside my head
paradoxically as eerie
as the dead.
YOU ARE READING
coffee stains
Poetrythe cracks on this cup still remains, its stains still unwashed.
s c r e a m.
i scream.
and i always scream for help,
upbringing
the silent cries
muted voices,
constant noises
ringing
inside my head
paradoxically as eerie
as the dead.