Behind Closed Doors

3. Taken

I mourn the day I lost my voice.
After long days and bitter nights,
Soundless screams and muted cries,
I have grown impatient
Of the broken sentences I must speak.
I am like tired wind,
I am felt, but silent,
Unseen, transparent.
Only scarred skin and cold hands notice me.
I am like salty tears,
I am felt, but private,
Concealed, unpleasant.
Only heard once I hit the marble floor.
After tongue bites and sewn-shut lips,
Empty talk and poor gossip,
I mourn the day I lost my voice.

Shut up.

His words have value,
His songs are gifts,
While my thoughts are destined to decay
In the complex chaos that is my mind.
His vision has merit,
His ideas are gold,
And everything I am is building up inside,
Until one day I'll bend too far,
I'll break.
But who will notice?

Shut up.

I cannot speak,
He asks for me to be honest.
I cannot speak,
He says keep quiet, be modest.
I shouldn't waste my breath.
He will not speak,
For guilt is his weapon and his bullets a dozen
He will not speak,
For I am a monster and I had it coming
I only waste my breath.
We should not speak.

Why give me lungs?
Why give me judgment?
Why give me anything if the world will just take it away?
End my suffering,
End it all.
Make me mindless with no penny to my name.
Make me foolish, make me dim
Make me into a colourless hymn
At least then I'll be sound.
At least then he'll hear me.

Shut up.

I mourn the day I lost my voice.
I mourn the day I lost myself.

Shut up.

But I will never mourn the day I lost you.