Unreported

Shame is like a silencer
on a gun fired,
the fear, the anger, the shame
all discharged,
but the damaging bullet
from the weapon
used against you
unnamed.

One in three
does not include
the unreported,
the ones who whisper
into the night,
questioning every moment -
especially the before -
a twisted barrel
marking you as damaged.

A wound healed
covers a lasting scar,
echoes of memories
penetrate in flashes,
not all guns
are the problem -
just the ones used
as weapons.



Poetry by Melinda K Zarate The PoetBay support member heart!
Written on 2026-04-23 at 15:45

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