The Unheard Poem by Geno Flash

Unheard

He's talking and talking but
no one really seems to be
listening to a single word.
And at that point he realized
that even though he was sitting
in a room, completely surrounded
by people, he felt just as lonely
as sitting in an empty room with
only the sound of his breath
and his wasted thoughts and dreams
to keep him company.
The very words that poured out
of their mouths were like tiny
daggers traveling on the breeze.
Aiming for his heart. A heart
carved in stone and cold as ice.
So much so that he never felt
the spite that everyone had
for him.
Or at least that's what he told
himself. But if you stare into
the eyes of a face that has
never felt the warmth of a smile,
it becomes apparent that neglection
can kill like a knife in your soul.
Following his descent is a fear of all
the people who stand above him so
high and mighty with their perfect
lives. Whose voices are always heard,
and whose looks and talents are so
much more than he could ever dream
of having. The people who can create
dreams and have the means to realize
them too.
Envious and jealous at the same time,
but he just can't seem to express himself
to anyone. But at the same time, who
would want to listen? His desperate call
is muffled by the degrading words of
all the people who don't understand what
they are doing, torturing a man through
this viral abuse to the point where he
could be considered mentally unstable
when forced to stand side by side with
the normal man. The men whose voices are
never rejected.
Living in everyone elses shadow isn't
something one could even call a real life.
He dreams of a place where he can be
something much higher in status than
a worm to a bird. Ironically, that's just
the situation he is in. Being picked
apart day by day, little by little,
until there's nothing left.
Now there are only a few options left to
take for the man who stays under
the foot of the higher class, or any
class for that matter. The major
ideals that flow through his head
most fluently are death, whether it's
for the bird or the worm.
Until then, it's only a matter of time.

By: Tyler Creed Mabry