voice the silence
voice the silence life stories
  177
  •  
  2
  •   12 comments
Share

love_isaac
love_isaacJust some thoughts really.
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
a poem for the #MarchForOurLives movement.

voice the silence

my hands tremble as I walk back from the building that seemingly brought so much attention

my rage bubbles up inside me as tears threaten to fall, to drip onto the uncaring sidewalk

they tell us to sit back and do nothing to make way for them to sit back and do nothing

I lie in my bed and stare up at the ceiling, cold, unrecognizable as I wonder if I'm next, if my peers are next I wait in the silence

the next day only brings quiet and whispers as students comfort themselves and their friends

the teachers look over the sea of broken and angry children, at a loss of what else to do

it feels like a prison now I try to stroll through the halls, I try to pretend like it's normal, but it's not

I wait. I wait to be given the signal to cower under the desk I'm supposed to be learning at nothing. The silence only makes me even more worried

we walk outside the next day students laugh and goof off and jump around like it's just a normal day, like everything is normal I glare at them. They're supposed to be silent

I walk into my room with tears gathering at the corners of the eyes that have learned to pay attention to everything I never know what might happen

I try to talk, but it's like my voice is just a squeak in the wind, it's hoarse from screaming, from being angry, but nobody could hear me then, so why now?

they tell us that there isn't anything we can do they tell us this as if we haven't watched fellow students from other schools die they tell us this when they're unwilling to do anything, so we might as well be too

it happens every day, the children whose dreams used to be mixed into a colorful sunrise, now get a monochrome sunset

the teens who had wishes and ambitions for their lives, now get nothing but a headline and some bland condolences

then I think of the rest. The unrepresented, the innocent, they don't even make the news their once vibrant lives now fade as their stories go untold, their wishes go ignored, their words go unsaid

when we die, do we only get a plastic tear and some lines from those who couldn't care? when we die, do we even get remembered, or are we represented by nothing but a meaningless, yet haunting statistic?

it's normal to see lines of cars that hold broken hearts drive down the street

it is normal to hear the sobs of families as they mourn the kids who didn't get a chance to speak at the microphone

it is normal to see the numbers of falling stars rise each day, as if no one cares to save what really makes our solar system beautiful

it is normal when joy ridden people who only want to see the sky, are shot down before the light hits their eye

it is normal because the others are allowing it to be normal, to be so common that bodies will pile up on their doorstep and they will never notice they've learned to use the back door instead

and as the fall of our brothers and sisters and siblings and loved ones continues to grow into a mountain of ash, the anger in me, in us, only proceeds to rise like a shunned volcano

so let them know. Let them know their predictions were wrong as we erupt with the power of our lost people

let them know we will not tolerate being a number in the midst of forgotten tragedies

let them know that we will form an army amongst the fire that has burned our friends

march for their past, march for the present, and march for our future

let our footsteps rattle the earth and make their creations collapse, so they know that we avenge our fallen soldiers instead of letting them burn

Stories We Think You'll Love 💕

Get The App

App Store
COMMENTS (12)
SHOUTOUTS (2)