Pain has a voice.
I hear it in Frankie's tone as she tells me through tearful sobs that her fiance has abandoned her and their baby
because he was born autistic.
Pain has a voice.
It speaks an Octave higher than the preacher who's talking to me.
I try not to look at his worn shoes or the reddish brown collar of his black shirt.
Its been thirty minutes but I don't stop him, he seems to be enjoying this.
Pain has a voice .
I heard it speak as i listened to my girlfriends deepest secrets and swore i'd take them to my grave.
Pain has a voice and I wonder if it can be heard through my friendly smiles and re-assuring hugs.
Pain has a voice and it screams through our gestures, our words and even our laughter.
Pain has a voice... but aren't we all tired...
