The worst kind of suffering is the kind that is silent
Where you're left wondering where your voice went
Did it retreat?
Your words and their ears will never meet
Like a curse
You can't scream out for a nurse
And you can't ask if it'll keep getting worse
The water. Your lungs it'll immerse
The only communication is on your face and called remorse
It never ends
It never mends
You just give it an inner home
and accommodate for it to stay