The Scream Poem by Desiree Whitamore

I am shaking.
I am searching.
I am searching inside me.
I am searching for that scream, the scream that wants out.
I am looking, I can feel it, yet it's not coming.
Perhaps its the fact that i am crowded.
I am swimming in a sea of people, more like drowning.
Is that why they are turning down my scream?
My frustration is growing heavy.
Its reaching my mouth, it's claw-like fingers are climbing up my throat.
Then there it is.
Heads are turned, the sea has now become a pond.
There is no life, only stationary objects, standing, staring, judging.
I take a breath. Is it coming again?
No. My frustration has leaked out, it's gone, there is no more stress, no more clumps of hair sticking to my fingers.
Then suddenly, the pond becomes a sea of life and pain once more, and I feel it again.