Who I Am

Who I Am prose poem

Photo by kumargauraw

Why won’t anyone listen to what I say, one ear out the other or completely pushed away? My voice is soft yes but I still have a voice, just like others’ decision to listen is their very own choice. I guess what I speak isn’t meant to be heard, gone with the wind like the wings on a bird. So I keep to myself and stay locked away, asking me what’s wrong but what am I suppose to say? You’re the reason I won’t sit here and talk to you about my flaws, how you’re the reason I’m building these titanium steel plated walls? Making sure no one sees the true knowledge I have within, for you made me feel me speaking with my voice is one of the deadly sins. “Nothing I’m fine” my response forever, wondering if I’ll be able to ever get myself truly put back together. I found a new way for people to hear my mental views and ways, my poetry is my voice maybe it’s temporary maybe it’ll stay. Maybe I’m too damaged to lift my voice for the fear no one will listen, when I’m part of a conversation I feel my eyes sometimes glisten. Filling with joy for that one moment my voice is included in discussion, instead of keeping to myself deep inside yelling and cussing. Until my recovery this is all you will see, my poetry & wisdom all that makes me, me.

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