Silence is deadly.
Why can you not hear my screams?
Does it scare you
to look into
my shallow and hollowed,
rejected and neglected eyes?
The filth that covers my skin,
a mere reflection
of the wounds within,
abscessed and oozing,
the stench overwhelming.
Know, I was not always
this way.
It was the sin of another,
one who walks among you,
looks like you,
pristine – well spoken,
befriended by many.
Yet, it is I
you spit upon
because my reflection
of pain
causes you disdain,
yet it is my shame
and how in God’s name
does one move on?
DLC © 3/17/2014
My new job has prompted this poem. If we could remember when we come across those who are suffering that there are reasons greater than we know, then perhaps we could decrease the stigma.


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