No.
They do not cry out,
They do not groan,
But mumble and whisper their dissatisfaction.
They wish no one to know,
To carry the weight they bear.
They whisper their sorrows through words softly uttered,
And words carefully written,
But never read.
They see loneliness as a cloak
That covers them in busy rooms,
That mutes them to the smallest groups.
No ones there.
Everyone's there.
What's the difference?
When your locked in with your thoughts?