Six hundred thousand voices fade each year, In cities and towns, they disappear. Names on posters, eyes gone cold—Among twenty-eight million across the world. A mother waits, a brother cries, An unanswered call, a thousand whys. Each echo whispers through the night, Will you be next to lose your light? So leave your mark before you roam, A message, a trace, a path back home. Because silence can steal what love protects—Stay seen, stay safe— Who will be next?