Silent Echoes

I call out,

but the walls do not answer.

The air is thick with silence,

pressing down,

suffocating.

There is no hand to hold,

no voice to whisper back,

only the hollow sound of my own breath

filling the emptiness.

I reach for something—anything—

but my fingers grasp at nothing.

The world moves beyond these walls,

unaware,

unbothered.

How long can a soul whisper for help

before it forgets how to speak?

How long can a heart ache

before it stops expecting an answer?

Still, I call out,

though I do not know if anyone listens.

Still, I reach,

though I do not know if anyone will reach back.