I walk with the hand of shh over my mouth
Its not mine
Who knows whose it is?
It's been like this since I became myself
I became myself, when i found my voice.
I try so hard to shove the hand of shh aside
Oh how much I try!
But there's no way to get around it
As i reach up my hands freeze in place
When i touch the hand I am punished
When i battle the hand, i am bruised purple.
So purple and aching that I don't have the strength to fight anymore.
That's my weakness; my physical pain.
They told me the hand of shh is powerful
So powerful that it does what it wishes
Henceforth, it's glued to my mouth.
My voice. My way of communication.
Too long I've whispered under the hand, too afraid of what it would do to me next.
But what is to fear, you ask?
The consiquences.
Rebeling against the hand of shh is very bad.
One day I will gather the strength to pull that hand out of power.
And when that day comes, the sun will shine.
When that day comes, it will vanish.
When that day comes, I will listen to the humming of open opinion.
When that day comes, I will become fearless.