You were silent for so long that when you ache to speak,
you are conflicted with worry
and you don't know how to start it.
You don't know where to place your tongue
and create a sound that makes you worthy to be listened to.
You don't know what words to use and where to start
Once, I was laughed at because of the way I spoke
and I don't know if it was because of how I enunciate words
or was it because of the way I put force on them as though they were my lifeline
A necessity that will enable me to breath the stale miasma of this unbearable state
Sometimes, words tumble out of my mouth
and they have no remorse and most times I cannot tame them
but I also have comforting and understanding words though I am only remembered
not because of the latter
Most times,
I have only defiance because they only listen to resistance
and my words that were my lifeline
were actually the noose they prepared to make me hang and hurt,
a trick that works every single time
I am tired of the noose, it has strangled me
for so long
that I was forced to use stronger defiance.
I never learn.
I don't think I ever will.
I was silent for so long that when I speak,
I am conflicted with worry
if my words are true
YOU ARE READING
Self-Contemplation
Poetry"I have hated the words and I have loved them, and I hope I've made them right." - Liesel
