Every day is filled with the absence;
Of the verses, I cry at night,
I ponder what would happen;
If I bring them out into the light.

How about I tell you all the words;
Of the songs I have not hummed,
The stories that are ensnared;
And the voices that are mummed.

I scream the silence, I left unsaid;
With apprehensions of being taken wrong,
Show you the scratches on my scarred self;
And the pain I carry along.

The world will never stop to break you,
And there is not much one can do;
You have to fight hard to stand here;
Not to return back to what buried you.