I hush my lips

and close my eyes.

I will not say a word.

Emotions stalled,

My pulse is low.

Even screaming,

I’m unheard.

The rain beats down,

The thunder roars,

I stand frozen in my steps.

Black winds blow

A chilling breeze

As I stand

Soaking in regrets.

I close my eyes,

I go to sleep,

Still no comfort

comes to me.

In my mind,

The vision fades that,

In the past,

had set me free.

I cut the vein,

I spill the blood,

To prove

there’s life within.

Cover the scars,

Paint the smile,

So on the inside,

I can mend.

I hush my lips

and close my eyes.

I will not say a word.

Emotions stalled,

My pulse is low,

Even screaming,

I’m unheard.

I wrote this poem following sexual assault in 2007. It is not a cry for help. But for others, poems like this are a cry for help. Pay attention to the blogs you read! People need to know they matter.

Suicide Prevention
Suicide Prevention

Image by Jessie Herndon

15 thoughts on “Unheard

  1. I can identify with this very well, right down to the scars. Even though my mental health has become more stable these days, I still have my times where I’m not OK, and no one seems to be there to help me, and I must do something to make it real. I am starting work in therapy on incest, but am going only every other week. Scars have been picked off, and I don’t have any band aids to cover them with.

    Liked by 1 person

    • The hardest thing about therapy with pain that runs as deeply as trauma like yours is that it often gets harder before it gets easier. I ran from therapy the entire time I was in it. I still do. So, do better than I do. See it through. Push through it. And if you need a listening ear, I’m always here, too. ♥

      Liked by 1 person

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