Behind A Closed Mouth

Too many voices crowd behind bone walls.

Dirty windows distort the world.

We take turns steering

down ever-changing roads

and raging seas.


I only drive when no others occupy the road

When the sky is silver, blue, and chilled.

The rain melts through my palms. 

The others sleep in the passenger seats. 

Though I dispise solitude, I wish not to change.


I drive down busy city streets. 

Friends and enemies milling together.

I have a loud radio

Sun drops making its way through musty ports.

Smile, laugh, play the part.


More voices clamour within us.

Layers of sound and emotion.

Mine muzzled beneath my seclusion. 

Mine hidden in closet smiles.

But which voice is truly mine

This poem is about: 


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