Silently she sits down, her eyes glazed and distance,
staring into a world that only she can see.
A look of peaceful serenity stamped out on her face,
her delicate fingers seem to clutch at her chest,
Where to the untrained eye, it would seem
She were living the greatest memory.
Her fingers pull at the fabric above
where her heart used to beat.
And she screams;
The unspoken shriek still hiding behind her lips.
Her peaceful stare never faltering.
Her unheard pain stirs fiercely in her chest,
her reserved demeanor hides the wrath of ill-rest.
And she screams.
The silence is broken in a fierce unwavering wave
of a pain long-since repressed.
Her scars heal over only to be torn open again.
Will she ever learn the first time or the third or the fifth?
Will she stand to her potential
or get caught in the drift?
Is her love so worthless as to be constantly shunned?
Or is the world not ready for such a view?
The thoughts rampage with no tenderness
Through the confines of her mind.
And she screams.
Her face never flinching, her eyes focused intent,
the combination of hurt and anger
Lurks right behind this calm outer shell.
All while she screams in her own soundless hell.
Will she ever let anyone know?
Will she keep letting the wrong ones in?
The deafening sound of her silence
would bring her to her knees.
If only she could stand again,
If only she could breathe.
The oxygen comes slowly, in ragged drawn out ways.
She wonders when it will be time
For someone else to pay,
And she screams.
Her love is undying, and never-ending
but reserved only for those
who cannot, will not, return it.
She sees the emotion in their eyes,
She knows about each tangled lie.
Her serene demeanor never breaks as
She calmly folds her hands onto her lap,
her eyes closing in that damned mock content.
The silence drags on into hours, days, years
And she screams.
