I scream into the silence
yet no one hears a sound,
I shatter every pane of glass
the walls come tumbling down,
Not one shard of glass is recognised
nor the blood upon the floor,
they tread upon my fearful heart
as if it were nothing more,
Than a raindrop on the wind
too minute to matter,
meant to drift and meant to fall
upon the ground and splatter,
The blindness of their eyes
have helped to make me see,
that the only one who will ever hear
my dying soul is me,...
Well written! The vivid imagery gives life to the emotions of the voice behind the poem. The reader does not know of how the individual got to this point which is ironic as everyone in the person's life does not seem to notice anything is wrong at all. The realization at the end, stating "the only one who will ever hear my dying soul is me" sounds like the words of a true survivor as the first step in coming out of depression is accepting your emotions as being the results of your reaction to the events surrounding you and not the events themselves. Keep writing.