She incessantly screams.

For souls to hear, yet not heed.

She incessantly screams,

In endless explaination,

For it to fall upon unhearing ears, and dulled minds.

She screams to those sealed to her pleas.

She screams to those indifferent to her laments.

She screams.

And pleads.

Pleads to be acknowledged.

Pleads for her woes to be acknowledged.

Her grief to be acknowledged.

She is weary.

She no longer desires to scream, yet remains
hopeful.

So she screams.

She screams, and screams, and screams to unhearing ears, and dulled minds anew.

Until that one girl.

That one girl from her native land.

That one girl with a nose ring, and choppy bangs, and dusky complexion.

She does not need to hear screams.

She knows.

She knows all her sorrows, all her woes, without a single murmur.

Perhaps she has been screaming too?

Perhaps she has been unseen too?

She is so serene.

Tranquil.

As if she comprehends all, but chooses to remain silent.

Perhaps she can mirror her too? Perhaps she can learn to cease her screams too?

~Yusra