Tears squeezing one by one
From eyes that feign untroubled sleep
Slowly flows
From taut cheeks
Quivering from suppression
Of lips dying to scream out
The words of frustrations
The sentences of antagonism
The paragraphs of vulnerability
That is never allowed to be free
And how they trickle one by one,
Slowly dampening
The pillow that witnesses
All the defenselessness
Of a lonely girl
With voice that shouts
Yet unheard and unsung,
With eyes that implores
Yet unseen and unperceived,
With hands that reaches
Yet untook and ungrasped,
With a heart that waits
Yet forgotten and abandoned.

Is the makeshift room,
Dangerously dangerous for the wanna-be gods?
Fearing the whispers of sedition and rebellion
that'll topple their paper and makeshift crowns.
Atop heads full of ego and pride
Eager to churn out
petty and childish ulterior moves
to undermine the bugs
perceived in their twisted minds
clouded by serpents hissing half-told truths
threatening where they sat
on their barely-there thrones?