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Hear Me

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hear hear see hear see see hear -

Listen -

hear see hear hear see -

Listen to me!

hear see -

Shut up and listen to me!




Why why why do you constantly refuse to

hear me?




"What’s wrong with her?"

Every day,

the hands of the clock would turn in melancholy,

and every day,

they would move like so

in my eyes

as my dread came closer and

closer and

closer.

those who used to feel as close

as my very own limbs

had turned against me.

"How can we deal with a daughter like you?"

"Why can't you be normal?"

"You’re rude, you're aggressive,

you’re a nuisance."




"What’s wrong with you?"




What’s wrong?

You stare at me blindly

and listen about as much as a deaf man;

your care for me,

like your appearance,

is skin deep;

the words,

the dreams,

the hopes,

everything

I try to say to you

makes me more of a fool

to believe

that you care

because in the end you always just say

"What’s wrong?"

...

It’s as if I’m invisible.

...


Life goes on

and on

and on

and I walk down its riggedy paths

with heavy shackles locked on my

ankles, my

wrists, my

neck, my

mouth

so that

like an untrained dog

or an untamed tiger

I will be kept from

my right to speaking my mind

and my heart

and my

freedom.



Freedom.



It’s that thing that we were always told we had.

we were told that we had

the freedom

to speak about

to laugh about

to write about

anything and everything

we wanted.

We grew up believing this.

And were indirectly taught to

think but not wonder

speak but not question

hear but not know

and

see but be blind

to the fact that

even though we have

everything

that we could ever

want,

and yet,

we have nothing at all.

we are empty caskets;

what is inside of us

has no value

until somebody dead

is within us.



Then people start to wonder

“What’s wrong?”



What’s wrong is

what

we

are.

We are hypocrites

liars

cheaters;

not to others

but

to ourselves.



I lie to myself.

I tell myself it’s okay,

and that I will eventually

find someone

who will listen.



I tell myself it’s okay.

And I keep telling myself this

Until I become just like the others

And ask

“What’s wrong?”





Because then I will decide

that nothing about me

has ever been right.



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