A Silent Cry

by Nthabiseng Ntshala

It is home

Well that’s what we should call it.

How can I call it home if it’s as empty as our memories?

We see nothing but empty souls reflecting

I stare at the mirror

I see a figure filled with nothing but air

Air meaningless to breath

That tells not my story but the story of others


I am screaming for deaf ears to hear me

I cry with the rain falling

I see a blurry image

Who am I to be described?


There is always a shadow of doubt

I cried

I got sick from it

I became numb

I was a lifeless body with dreams

I gave up on myself so quickly

I lived for others

i gave them me and i became their slave


How can I be revived?

I stare at the mirror hoping to get answers

All I hear is silence.


There are some more articles Different Flavours One Spoon as well as Dying moments if you want more on love and self acceptance.

Submit your writing, photos or anything else to HOLAA! email: holaafricaonline@gmail.com

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Great work menh…….”I am screaming for deaf ears to hear” ….Love the question at the end though “How can I be revived”….After long phrases of you naming & pointing out situations,the question comes in perfectly as means of you wanting better or perhaps seeking for answers & solutionzzzz….Looove It šŸ™‚

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Glad you liked the piece!

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