A Lonely Man Who Lost His Voice

A lonely man had lost his voice.

He'd scream and scream but make no noise.

Broken and bruised the man lay still.

They'd crushed his dreams and robbed his will.

A smile had not been seen on his face.

And the look on his heart read clearly disgrace.

Everyday he awoke but still he slept.

He cursed at god at night and wept.

He dreaded sleep tormenting nightmares.

Engulfed in doubt and always scared.

He'd been torn apart piece by piece.

His love and joy had long since ceased

He cried out for help with no results.

They'd only continue pointing out his faults.

As his last bit of hope had almost left him.

He looked to his feet and found a pen.

Immediately he began to write.

About his life the constant fight.

He had begged for an escape all those times.

And here he found them in his rhymes.

The lonely man had found joy again.

Even if this pen was his only friend.

The lonely man had found his voice.

Reviews

[Jared braden]

Thank you very much I appreciate the feedback. This was only a rough draft. A lot of my writing on here is. Which is why I welcome all constructive criticism.

[Taylorgwebb]

Very good, and it will certainly find a sympathetic audience on here, I think. My only thought is that his recovery might be a little slower, or, as is the case with some, might be because of the circle of friends he was able to acquire because he had started writing again. But of course your content is only ever criticized after your writing is superb, great work.