Sometimes I want to scream, but forget that I have lungs. Nails digging into palms too soft, half moon creases into skin like nights lasted until three in the morning. I cannot find voice; I am silent. You may open my mouth, but the words are stuck to its roof, saturated in its tongue. You may rip the duct tape off, peeling layer upon layer of skin until blood trickles down to my teeth, but I will not cry out, not even smack my lips; I am silence.