Unheard Echoes

They say, “Speak up, don’t let it slide,” But will they hear or turn to stone— Their silence screaming louder than my voice? Will they not question what I tried To wear with pride, yet feel alone, As if my clothes had made the choice? They say I lie, or crave the tide Of eyes that pierce down to the bone— A stare that strips without a noise. A thousand looks, a thousand knives, No touch, yet every inch is torn, Their gaze a ghost that haunts my skin. Do I stay quiet, like silent wives, In tales where women must be worn— Their worth beneath a veil too thin? "Don't speak," they say, "you’ll break their pride," Their honor stitched in shame I mourn— My truth a threat, my scars a sin. But I am fire, not your ash, A storm of voices yet unheard, My soul will not be shaped by fear. I will not bow, I will not crash, My pain will rise in every word, Until your comfort learns to hear. So ask me now—can I stand tall? Not just for me, but those unseen— The ones who broke, but never spoke. Yes, I will rise beyond it all, A roaring flame, no longer clean, But far too fierce to be a joke.