Shut up, Shut up,

Was all that she could hear.

The thoughts scratching and scraping trying to get through.

They screamed begging for emancipation,

Clawing at their neuron chains,

Bleeding fear and uncertainty.

 

The words racked against her skull, like lost souls in hell.

She wanted to release them but her gated lips remained fixed shut,

Sealed in cement by the doubts in her heart and the world’s judgmental eyes.

 

Some of them were demons that she couldn’t hide forever:

 Like the number of times she banged her head against the wall

How she twitched when they stared at her

The way her lip bled when she bit down too hard

And how she cried because she didn’t know what else to do

 

But each thought a different spirit,

 Like infants waiting to explore

 

Like the way his fingers curved around hers.

The faint aroma of her mom’s apple pie.

Recollection of when her dad made her cry,

And how she loved him anyways

 

 

 

Unable to speak

Unable to hide

Unable to cope with the weight in her throat

She picked up a pencil and released those demons,

Changing their names to “poems”.

She sang each word with every part of her being

And at last found her voice.