Quiet Girl

Silence is my native tongue, when I open my mouth My true and unclear colors come out. One may see me differently, but I know I’m still the same. I have many countless layers yet, shysters still don’t see me, But judge me. My crimson eyes have been polluted By gossipers and power hungry fiends. Sometimes I forget who I am and in doing so, others do too. People see me in a different light saying things like, ‘Oh she’s no angel, and quiet people can’t fight.’ What angle are you viewing me from? You think you can create or be a better me? Even in the hallway fiends seem to think I’m alone among the sea of blue lockers. Speaking indirectly, their malicious tongues Spit venom, attempting to ignite forest fires. Yet I remain un wilted by their itchy voices That begs to be scratch by my cold hands. I am reassured by my quiet brothers and sisters With the touch of their slight nods and ever watching eyes, That if those shysters become beaten like dead corpses They will remain an unsolved cold case. Our mute sounds bark louder Than any wondering spirit and our eyes hide The fact they we are both cunning and bold. I am a chameleon, the wind moves With my spirit like a leaf Dancing upon invisible seas. Don’t take this silence for granted, It has backbiting edges and some sharp curves. Since I know all this, why should I say a word?