In vain, they have tried

but not a word since

have I heard

not a touch

have I felt.

There is only

the screaming

in my head.

From the light

I shrink

into shrouds of black,

to fight the light

and to fight the crowd

haunting me.

So far gone,

so far lost,

someone should have realized

the cost

of words

said and unsaid,

the toll

of ingrained

ways of being.

Since then, they've only seen

a vacant stare,

acting as if

I don't care

about what I no longer hear,

what I no longer see,

what I no longer feel,

because no longer will I be

an outcast by force

but by will.