This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.

What is a whisper
Amongst a thousand screams?
A lone voice cries
In the wilderness
And the ancients misunderstand,
Mishear, misread
For a thousand thousand years.

What is the heart cry
Amongst a thousand lost souls?
The ghosts of terror ride the night
And crawl upon the skin of the trembling,
Seeking the last vestige
Of whatever morsel is left.

What is a view
Amongst a thousand scenes?
The imprint of the painter's brush
Is overlaid by petulant strokes
Of those who seek to mar the pure.
A work of art is sullied and hidden,
Ashamed and masked behind the censor.

What is a single
Amongst a thousand pairs?
Both lucky and pitied,
And brought to dwell by the edge
And tucked under the carpet
And hidden away in the dust.

What is a lonely
Amongst a thousand friends?
A need to be heard
And then hidden in blushes,
A paranoia cloak of being tolerated dimly
Whilst the world keeps on turning
And the voice carries on
And the speaker grows tired
And pities themselves
As they're told not to pity
But to cheer up and deal,
And the world keeps on turning
And turning
And turning
Whilst the voice screams in silence
And craves moonlight dreaming.
For daytime is creeping and showing the truth,
That the one who is crying
Should fade away.

What is a whisper
Amongst a thousand screams?

This poem only available on Stories Space. If you are reading it elsewhere, it has been stolen.