That voice isn’t mine
It doesn’t feel like me anymore…
When I look at it
In the eyes of the people around me
It looks different...
“Hopeful,” they would say
“Dreamful”
And “ambitious...”
Except mom
“Oh, my poor baby,” she says.
All that pain!
Hope it guide you to brighter paths
Where you find your deserved peace
Fulfilled dreams
And sincere loved ones.
But my voice’s heavy
In my shaky hands
Whenever I speak
Its thrones etches in my chest
I barely resist the pain…
And I, I write…
I write to soothe the etching heart.
I write to be a little lighter,
Conquering my little death with letters and phrases
Covering my heart with shields of stone-hard words
My soul sprouts little green dreams
Weak as my voice,
Distant as my memory
Of how my voice used to be…
These memories
Are how I keep moving forward…
And I’ve only increased in predilection over the hardships.
Predilection to reclaim my stray voice
To reconcile with my heart
And befriend my new alphabet.
Maybe I am not looking hard enough
Maybe I am looking in the wrong way
Maybe I should stop looking
And start working.
It’s hard to fall in doubt
And harder to be motionless,
Passionless,
Lifeless...
My heart is splitting
Over submission to the failure
-Because it’s easier!-
And resisting the fall...
Collecting the remains of achievement
Gluing it together with the fainting dream
And building small steps...
One step
Over the other
And I am free, again.
