Does It Make A Sound?

If a young girl cries in the middle of the night, and no one hears it, does she still make a sound?

Or are her fears and disappointments an infinity pool visited only by her pillows?

Is she still strong if her weaknesses lie privately in her message threads and unanswered phone calls?

Or is her self made armor of “I’m fine” and “nothing is wrong” and “I don’t care” suitable to protect her from her own emotions?

If her memories only serve as wounds that she keeps peeling, with the blood of regret leaving stains on her future,

Exactly WHEN does Dr. Time come for his first consultation?

Because “Time heals all”, doesn’t it?

“This, too, shall pass”, won’t it?

Well, time has been overbooked for rehabilitation assessments and

Every attempt I’ve made for this to pass has failed and

Looking in the mirror and realizing that I am blind to what everyone else sees in me,

Is the reason why these questions still don’t have answers.

It’s the reason why God and I are in a tug of war between “Who I Am” and “Who You Think You Are”.

It’s the reason why love not only doesn’t live here anymore,

But has a list of fines due to damage and negligence while renting my heart’s property.

I go to bed under a blanket of issues,

and wake up every morning with the scent of those layers strong enough for me to constantly be reminded of.

If a young girl cries in the middle of the night, and no one hears it, does she still make a sound?

Or is she the only force stopping her from being loud enough to call for help?

 

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