The scream isn't out here, shattering the pane,

It's bottled up deep, where the venom and pain

Have fermented for months, a vintage so rich.

It started the moment he flipped the love switch.

It’s coming from the cellar, the one in my chest,

Where all of his promises went to the rest.

It’s been building, a pressure, a high-pitched, slow rise,

The soundtrack to watching his love turn to lies.

They have been screaming since the day he walked out,

A furious echo of "What was all that about?"

It's the laugh track to his delusion of grace,

And the sound of my spirit escaping that place.

Will it ever end? Not until I say "when."

It’s the noise I make now that I'm finally, truly mine again.

It’s not desperation; it’s finally being loud

Without having to worry about bowing to his crowd.

He'll think that I'm broken, that I'm losing my mind.

Let him. The scream is the strength that he'll never find.

It’s the glorious, raw, beautiful sound of my closure.

He expected a whisper, but I brought the exposure.

The volume's set high. It's a sonic divorce.

And honestly? It's just getting started. No remorse.