Self Expression #10

the shout that can’t be heard

Every once in a while, I shout in conversations.

It doesn’t matter if it’s in person,

a phonecall, 

a text. 

They never hear. 

Sometimes I shout quietly;

a subtle hint that something’s not right.

Other times, 

it’s a roar. 

It’s deafening, direct, pleading. 

They never hear. 

All these years,

my shouts have filled the room. 

Only silence answers.

A cold, unforgiving, quiet. 

They never hear. 

I should give up, stop trying.

Stop seeing if someone might hear my shout. 

They never hear.

But I can’t. 

I must shout. 

For the little girl whose voice was ignored. 

For the middle schooler who wished they could vanish. 

For the high schooler that shouted, pleaded, begged to be heard. 

If I stop shouting, 

Those girls will never get to see

if someone listens.

If someone hears. 

If someone can finally tell them, 

“I hear you.”

They never hear. 

But one day, they might. 

And until that day, 

every once in a while, I shout in conversations.