The screaming has ceased
And all that's left is silence
Which in its own way
Is equally deafening

I take my final breath
And look at the crowd
Their faces are filled with fear
As I become still

I'll no longer cry
But they will all pay
Then will be my time
to be truly wicked


Additional Resources

Get AI Feedback on your poem

Interested in feedback on your poem? Try our AI Feedback tool.


If You Need Support

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741