Reasons for writing , my silent scream

a voice never heard may be more than it seems

in a world where most talk, with very few that listen

to whom do I tell when I feel a part of me missing

my mouth nailed shut, yet my ears wired open

living as if im a diary to the loud and out spoken

to the people whose religion is self indulgence

my ears are a microphone in which they record their conscience

artists, vocalist, crooners they become

and i a loyal fan there to buy every album

great thanks and cheers for the one of few that listens 

handshakes and hugs are most oftenly given

but when my counceling is over, theres one question that has arisen 

as to why when i speak there are no microphones to listen

none really care nor is there concern 

so ill say im fine even if i just crashed and burned

fake acts of kindeness, i have no fans nor friends

for the only question they ask is to why i keep it bottled in

a contradiction they live a conundrum in fact

but i guess its too complex for them to realise how they act

so instead of me talking or singing like a bird

i silently scream, as i write every word . . .