When I get angry, when I cry,
When joy or madness passes by,
I say nothing...just breathe and blink,
Keep my words beneath the sink.
Not because I've nothing to share,
But 'cause I know... they wouldn't care.
They'll twist my truth into a joke,
They'll laugh while I begin to choke.
They'll say I'm "too much," "just a phase,"
They'll roll their eyes, avoid my gaze.
They'll mock the fire, dim the spark,
And leave me shouting in the dark.
They call me dramatic, say I feel too deep,
But I've learned secrets are safer to keep.
So I stitched my lips with silent thread,
And made a home inside my head.
My voice? Too soft. My pain? Too loud.
So I let silence be my shroud.
I stopped explaining, stopped the tears
It's quieter living without the sneers.
Why should I gift them my scars, my rain,
When all they return is shame and pain?
My world is mine...my storm, my sun,
Not theirs to mock, not theirs to shun.
So now, I speak in quiet ways,
Through poetry, through empty gaze.
I don't explain. I've learned to hide.
Silence… is where I now reside.