My tongue stays knotted—
a noose around my throat,
tightening with every word I don't say.
I choke on thoughts I can’t release,
each one suspended
in the silence of sentences I cannot find.
Ideas flash past like speeding cars,
but I stay still,
stranded at the edge of my own mind.
I am voiceless.
Mute.
Not because I have nothing to say—
but because I don’t know how to begin.
How can my head be full of questions
with no answers to still the storm?
I carry a flood behind my teeth.
They act as dams, holding back the ruin.
I reach for better days,
grasping air,
clutching at light that slips through my fingers.
But only the bitter ones remain.
I am too young
to feel the weight of this much sorrow.
The noose tightens.
And I fade—
not from view, but from within,
swallowing the ache that never softens.
I need the words
to name this pain,
to give it shape
so it no longer owns me.
I must find that voice—
the one I buried deep—
and set it free
before silence becomes the only sound I know.
This poem touches on themes of emotional struggle, silence, and the weight of unspoken pain. Please take care of yourself while reading.
Sometimes, the hardest thing is just finding the words to say how you feel—especially when what you're feeling is too heavy, too tangled, or too big for language. "Buried Voice" is a piece I wrote during a time when silence wasn’t peaceful—it was suffocating. When my mind was loud with thoughts, but my mouth stayed shut. It's about carrying pain you can't name, about trying to hold yourself together when all you really need is to be heard. It's about that weight—and the desperate, human need to finally break it. To speak. To breathe. To be seen.
