Dying without words.

You say it over but no one hears you. They acknowledge you, screaming it at the top of your lungs until it’s hard to speak at all. They stare at you like you’re some sort of outsider but you don’t cry.

You say it over when they start to shrug like they’re annoyed or deaf.

You say it over and they start to walk away from you now. You want to run after them and make them hear you. You want to scream and spit on their worthless faces and you do but you don’t cry. You say it over once it becomes unbearable and tiring.

You say it over once you can’t see anymore. You scratch your eyes trying to peel the blackness but you can’t feel, so you don’t.

You wake up and see their faces in the dull, sickness light, finally looking at you and you do not say anything because you cry. You cry.