I talk.
Iscream.
I cry.
But no one hears me.
I play guitar.
I play trumpet.
I play tuba.
But noone hears me.
I hit the wall.
I slam the door.
I break the window.
But no one hears me.
I cut my wrist.
I want to die.
Because I am silent.
Silence can be a blessing and a curse too which you very nicely reflect through the pain you have described in your touching poem.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
wonderfully expressed. very sad. i hate feeling ingored too, but God hears and sees you.