Listen to me,

I know what you’re thinking,

“Great another poem,

Are we done yet?”

But listen to me.

 

You have a voice,

Right?

Well, use it.

Because unlike you,

Some don't.

 

But listen to me,

I don't know what you’re going through

And I can't tell your story,

Only you can.

So listen to me.

 

I want you to look around.

You are in a room with people.

Different stories, all unknown.

You smile at the girl,

The one with the cross on her neck.

She looks a little down.

 

But listen to me.

You look at her

And assume she’s just,

Stressed.

 

But if you listen to her story,

You’d know that every night

She no longer prays

Knowing they will remain

Unanswered.

 

What if someone had listened to her story then?

she cries every night

After the rough, callused hands

Scraped against her soft

And delicate skin.

 

If someone listened,

She wouldn't be shamed

by her own father,

The one who brought the shame

upon her.

 

If someone had listened to her

Ten years ago,

She would still be pure and innocent.

She wouldn't have been violated

By someone she

Trusted.

 

She wouldn't be scared

Every night of the father

Who raped her,

If someone had listened to her

Screams and cries.

 

If someone had listened

She would still be a virgin,

She would dream of finding

True love.

She would be

Happy.

If someone had listened.

 

So please listen to me.

You own your voice.

Use it.

Tell not only your

Story,

But the stories of

Those who have been

Muted

By the noose that violence

Has wrapped around their

Neck.

 

So please,

Just listen to them.