Silent Screams

I scream so loud it's silent.

My throat closes from the tension,

the violent vibrations

stay stunted inside.

Perhaps one day I'll explode,

I pray for that, you know,

to just spontaneously combust

from the pressure

of each shriek left unheard

unyelled

unsung.

My inner melody is a screech

that makes dog whistles

sound like cooing newborns.

A screech that would put an owl to shame.

Yet no one sings along

and no one dances.

Least of all me.

They cover their ears

and I, my face.