Let Them Read
I try to speak, but no one stays,
They turn their backs, avoid my gaze.
Too dark, too sharp, I push too far,
They shake their heads, say "you are bizarre."
My thoughts don’t drift, they strike like waves,
Unravel deep, then fold in caves.
Too many edges, too much strain,
Too loud to bend, too raw to tame.
They call me bold, they call me cold.
Too many truths, too uncontrolled.
My words cut deep, they stain the skin,
A mark too raw to sink within.
They come too fast, they carve too steep,
They leave them breathless—call me a creep.
So now I carve the lines instead,
Ink for the thoughts that go unsaid.
If they won’t hear, then let them read—
The weight I bear, the words I bleed.
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