Do you hear it now?
The words turned down low,
The words we cry on our pillow.

Listen for a moment,
Tune into the still silence.

Press your ear against the doors
Of our mind
And see for yourself what it's like
To be our kind.

Can we be any louder?

Any clearer?

The silence should be deafening
Threatening.

But in it we remain.

—
Who can relate to this poem?