Silencing Ourselves When We Need To Be Heard

We clamor to be understood,

Shouting endlessly into the void,

Hoping someone, anyone,

Will hear.

But we don't really say a thing.

Quiet, quiet, so quiet.

We want to be understood,

But our silence is not enough

To get our points across.

Fear, anxiety

Writhing in our stomachs,

Like snakes slithering over cold snakes

As all try to escape from a hole

Through one small opening.

We open our mouths to speak,

And out they slither,

Our snakes,

Our mistakes,

Hiding us in the shadows,

And obscuring any spoken

Thoughts that peek.

All the things we never say,

But wish we did.

Friend, friend, I want to be your friend.

I love you. I need you.

Can you help me?

All the unspoken things drive us mad,

Lonely in our silent worlds,

Trapped in prisons of our own making,

Looking back at silent moments and

Saying to ourselves,

"Dear god, why didn't I speak?"

Days, weeks, years, pass

and we lose the friends we

thought we had

lose the people we were

let go of all the people we once

thought

we would always have

because fear is strong,

and when it calls,

we listen.

When our dark master,

The thing that is and is not

Ourselves,

Calls our names,

We. Drop. Everything.

And this is when regrets

Creep in.

Quiet, quiet,

We are so quiet.

Why when our hearts sing to be heard,

Do we silence them,

Caging them,

Like a wildly-beautiful bird?

Quiet.

Quiet.

What is the value of quiet?

And what is the value of our words,

If only we let them be heard?