All Nonfiction
- Bullying
- Books
- Academic
- Author Interviews
- Celebrity interviews
- College Articles
- College Essays
- Educator of the Year
- Heroes
- Interviews
- Memoir
- Personal Experience
- Sports
- Travel & Culture
All Opinions
- Bullying
- Current Events / Politics
- Discrimination
- Drugs / Alcohol / Smoking
- Entertainment / Celebrities
- Environment
- Love / Relationships
- Movies / Music / TV
- Pop Culture / Trends
- School / College
- Social Issues / Civics
- Spirituality / Religion
- Sports / Hobbies
All Hot Topics
- Bullying
- Community Service
- Environment
- Health
- Letters to the Editor
- Pride & Prejudice
- What Matters
- Back
Summer Guide
- Program Links
- Program Reviews
- Back
College Guide
- College Links
- College Reviews
- College Essays
- College Articles
- Back
Screaming On My Death Bed
You can't hear me because I'm already dead,
but that's me,
laying on a cold, hard, metal bed.
I scream my lungs out but
You can't hear me.
I need to be louder,
make you pay attention,
force you to listen but
You still can't hear me
even though I'm crying,
and clawing,
and pounding at the blackness
that has engulfed my
light.
You still can't hear me
even though it's just a scar.
'It will heal' I told myself.
Infection
gave way and I
scream.
Scream for you to hear me,
yell for you to be quiet,
argue that I'm nothing more than
skin.
It touches the freezing steel
burning
my back.
I cry for the pain,
and the hopelessness,
and the end.
Because you didn't hear me
and I
scream.
Similar Articles
JOIN THE DISCUSSION
This article has 0 comments.