You are not invisible.

You are powerful.

Powerful within your own silence.

If you can become quiet, you will understand your voice.

Your voice speaks through every cell you own.

Your voice echos through your entire being,

Like yelling down the dark tunnels of all you can not see.

Your voice travels through the dark,

and returns to you in the light.

It finds its way back to you,

Whether you cower,

Whether you fight.

Your voice makes its way back to you.

You are born every day.

Just to kill off all you have never been,

Distractions will surely starve you,

Let your hunger begin.

I am hungry.

I get so hungry.

I feed myself with my own voice.

I do not know who hears it,

Not my choice.

I am screaming down the dark of my tunnel.

Echoing back to myself.

Passing the graffiti on the walls,

Spray painted by somebody else.

I am screaming down the dark of my tunnel,

Smiling as my voice returns to me,

Surpassing the noise of the cars driving above,

I hear what I can not see.

I hear it all if I can listen, willingly.

And I do, listen willingly.

The louder I scream into that dark tunnel,

The louder my echoing.

This voice.

This voice.

This voice.

One clap, two clap, three clap, forty?

By clapping more or less, you can signal to us which stories really stand out.