Author Information
Voice
It is loud
Pounds on every inch of my skin
Never can be reasoned with.
Fear strikes into every soul
It is loud
Guns, knives and weapons taken away
Never proud.
Fear ruptures the voice.
It is loud
Blaming everyone but itself
Never can be happy.
Fear is its only discription.
It is loud.
Hey, great poem! I hope I
Hey, great poem! I hope I understood it right. That the voice has the power to make tremors and waves throughout history.