How can one reflect
When all one see’s is darkness
Through white shrouded eyes?

There are words I wish I could express what I really feel about this poem. There are words that are trapped in my throat about it. A scream so loud that it circles back to a yawning whisper.

Suffice it to say that I would paint this on the doors of people in angry red. I would scream it at the top of my lungs if I knew how to form the words right. If I knew the people who needed to understand it would listen.

But for now, I give you this poem. And hope that a fraction of my rage comes through.