In rooms filled with noise, I open my mouth,
but my words are swallowed, spat out.
Eyes glazed over, they hardly care,
lost in their worlds, too distant to share.

I stitch my sentences, fierce yet frail,
defying the silence, but I feel so pale.
When emotions spill, I try not to shrink;
their indifference is loud, drowning me in ink.

I stand my ground, aching and worn,
my voice a whisper, tattered and torn.
I’m thunder in shadows, aching to rise,
but I’m just an echo, fading in sighs.