OUT

All I ever heard were echoes,

faint remnants of hope.

Calling me,

calling me,

and

calling me.

 

They turned into murmurs and

then into screams.

Crying out for warmth,

adulation, and comfort.

These sentiments were far

and in-between.

 

Abandonment.

Cared for by no one.

Belonging to no one.

Willing to be loved, by

any one,

any thing.

 

My eyes worn from the

acid drops that slid down

my face,

enough was enough!

 

Like an egg being violently

cracked against a skillet, a

voice was born.

Fiery and difficult to contain.

 

I was no longer inside.

I smashed the windows,

I broke the door,

I demolished.. ..

my cage.

 

Out.

No longer contained,

I have found my peace as a scribe.

Even here

I am an outsider.

Not an aunt, not a sister,

not even a cousin to the greats,

but I stand on my own.

 

Hands shaking,

voice trembling,

I will not stop.

In this world all I have are

my words.

I will lie down before I allow

any villain to pluck away my liberation.

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

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