My voice heard
Such words fall where the voice becomes silent. Quietly squeaking out pencil lines and vibrating vocal chorded vowels.
Clarity still stings the spirit. The hiding of who I was, so wrong to do. Whispers I have said. Rants I have made. Special requests and cries I have shattered.
Oh how empty I became.
Longing for that one special time, where in imagination, I was picked first. Wanted. The remarkable experience. A first rate, four star remark. Yet the coy laughter seeps in and travels through a darkened channel only to explode deep within me.
The cringe that falls here. So deeply wounded and yet I display the coarse smile. Chapped lips, cracked to spread the bleak air of silence in a "shh".
Though now only I lift my head, shaking all that I drowned in. Washing the stains of broken life from beneath my fingernails. I cling to the one hope that measures any kind of understanding. I raise my clean palm to halt the judgements. Only to have been cuffed to a new set of issues.
A ball of yarn and wax. So sticky that glue freezes all points of life, momentarily. These precious seconds that can damage or heal, I look for the light inside my corner. Digging out the reality of just my importance. The belly of laughter holds this ruckus of sinister creativity but I punch and kick beyond. Repairing my spirit.
Just one swell of the ocean breeze and the lather of waves, I find my place, my voice --
heard.
Clarity still stings the spirit. The hiding of who I was, so wrong to do. Whispers I have said. Rants I have made. Special requests and cries I have shattered.
Oh how empty I became.
Longing for that one special time, where in imagination, I was picked first. Wanted. The remarkable experience. A first rate, four star remark. Yet the coy laughter seeps in and travels through a darkened channel only to explode deep within me.
The cringe that falls here. So deeply wounded and yet I display the coarse smile. Chapped lips, cracked to spread the bleak air of silence in a "shh".
Though now only I lift my head, shaking all that I drowned in. Washing the stains of broken life from beneath my fingernails. I cling to the one hope that measures any kind of understanding. I raise my clean palm to halt the judgements. Only to have been cuffed to a new set of issues.
A ball of yarn and wax. So sticky that glue freezes all points of life, momentarily. These precious seconds that can damage or heal, I look for the light inside my corner. Digging out the reality of just my importance. The belly of laughter holds this ruckus of sinister creativity but I punch and kick beyond. Repairing my spirit.
Just one swell of the ocean breeze and the lather of waves, I find my place, my voice --
heard.
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