A Silent Cry

I am pretty sure the poem speaks for itself.

I have fallen. A thorn amongst leaves, part of a stem that once fed a rose. The rose that some longed to smell.

I have screamed. In an orchestra of sounds, that drown my simplest expression. Simple expressions that go ignored & unnoticed.

I have crawled. Naked, bleeding, crying & reaching. Grasping at the wind in hopes that it would dry my blood & tears.

I have flown. With unseen wings, that carry me up from the bed I have made. Away from the hurt & shame.

I am a WOMAN, dirty yet cleaned. Weakened yet strong enough to ask for help.