Living without a voice was all that I had known. I'm prone to being heard but never listened, talked over, afraid to speak up, feeling imprisoned, like a freak behind bars. On my legs and arms, scars, but too afraid to add more for fear of being caught, wishing for my head to be clear just once.
Fourteen years later, I speak up for the first time, though deemed a freak, blamed for what not I did wrong. The hypocrite looks me in the eyes, and consider it he does not, to consider what I've said, and so I lose my voice once more, falling back behind bars, imprisoned once more.
Palms sweating, I scream, but make no sound. My arms pound against the bars, bruises forming, though I don't mind, trapped in my reality.
I've always been cracked, I simply can no longer pick up the pieces, and as my breath decreases, I know he made no sense, I still feel played.
ŞİMDİ OKUDUĞUN
Not So Lovely Poems
ŞiirAn update will be made every week, though please enjoy my poems. commenting and advice would be great aswell, I am open to any advice that I am given.
