I can hear them scream.
Not through their mouths or tongues,
Through their minds, filled with thoughts seeking to come to life.
The voices trapped in a void, the escape that they long for.

I can hear these in the subtlest moments.
In their words during conversations filled with insights
In the professors who teach with conviction.
In the depths of my own mind, brought out by these said people.

I see their struggle,
Their tears forming from the injustices and unfairness they see in the world,
The pain they have that are written in their essays, thesis and books that were barely touched by anyone else.
The blood that rushes out from their foreheads over the anger in their society.

Nobody wants to listen to them.
They try to wipe us out
With the words of “useless’, “underestimated” and "underneath"
They burn us with less job opportunities and ignorance

We still rise, despite all these ashes.
These scars make us stronger,
They can’t hear us. Louder we must show them.
Together, we cry.