Before the actual poem, a note: I am not the actual author.
The author wishes for anonymity, so I am posting it on faes behalf.

One sentence more, too soft, too hard,
another sharp glance, a spark ignites.
Gazes meet, silent and grave,
Rage burns quietly, yet so brave.

Words can cut deeper through the soul
than a knife crawls through the skin.

The silence grows loud and tense.
Words clash like stone against stone,
some break, some cut, but they never miss.
Conversations will grow more intense

Pride stands tall, demands its right.
Beneath that noise, the fearless tone,
hide fear and wounds otherwise unseen,

But beneath all this pain and scorn,
Lives a hope, silently born.
A wish for understanding between the lines,
lost in the space of the words unsaid

When quiet finally softens the sound,
and someone asks "what's wrong," and not "who"
from cracks in walls to finding new ground
battles end with the words "I understand you, too."

Penned by my hand on the 19th of Glacian, in the year 992 AF.