Before I got lost searching for solidarity;

Every part of my being was in danger
of becoming a calculated response.
There was a never-ending fear of the metaphors
Breaking free from the caverns in my brain,
and being publicized to the world for relatability. 

Instead of storing these writings of spiraling madness,
I let it flow wirelessly to whomever would bear the burden;

Regret is a toxin I’ve since become addicted,
feeding off the thoughts, no longer giving chance
to the voiceless;

And never did I think silence would ever be so comforting.

Check out my book, Penny Poetry, available on Amazon!


8 thoughts on “Voiceless

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