Left Unspoken

Fresh Old Scars

Another dusk, for the ache in this chest to grow.
Audible sighs, gasping for a breath of freedom.
Different sound letters, all bring the same sorrow.
The lingering visage is smothered and lonesome.

Eyes filled with relentless screams of tormented hope.
Begging the deaf to trade places, searching for peace.
Standing only to fall, still unable to cope.
The fresh cuts from old scars, a harrowing demise.

A body marked by invisible hurtful darts.
Striving for better, yet still left with no choices.
Words that are sharper than blades, ripping limbs apart.
Date of birth only fuels the prejudices.

As the cold wind breezes to touch pale fingertips.
The icy spikes continue to seep through bruised skin.
A small upward curve of the barely alive lips.
Trying to endure the piercing knives from within.