I have
A voice
Yet I don't use it.
Not to stand up for myself,
Nor to stand up for others
The ones who have no voice of
Their own.
This is true greed, having something
And yet denying others of it.
I can speak, not like the girl in that book
Not like that girl, whose lips were
Unmovable.
No, I can speak
I know this
Because I'm doing it right
Now. But I never speak
About the important things
The real things that matter
That affect,
Me.
No, I speak, but only about trivial
Things. Only about favourite books
TV shows,
Music,
Movies.
No, I never use my voice
To talk about the things I
Truly care
About.
Watch me
As I blame my silence
On others
On my childhood.
Watch me
As I shame
Everyone else for
Closing my lips
Tight, for sealing them with
Glue.
But really, it's me
Who should be ashamed.
For I could speak
Up. I could talk about
My life, my feelings
My heart.
But no, I am too terrified
Of what might happen to
Me, too terrified that my words
Will be twisted
Ripped from my mouth
Pushed and pulled
And poked and prodded
Into a shape
I can barely recognise.
I'm terrified
My words will be stolen from me
Believe me it's happened
Before, stolen from me, and given
A whole different meaning,
My words, my precious, precious
Words, telling a whole other
Story.
But most of all
I'm scared my words
Will become
Me.
~july 2018
