I’ve decided to become a mute.I feel as long as I’m able to express myself in words, in writing my mouth doesn’t always need to speak.I begin to want to take action for myself, when the time is needed.But I feel as if no one is hearing me, even though I spout my dialect out of my mouth, to create a dialogue, yet no one on this earth really listens.Examining behavior, I’ll tell you to no longer touch me, don’t get comfy, and drag me around, don’t threaten to hit or abuse me, as if I’m some clown who doesn’t know any better. I didn’t choose life to put up with this, and I don’t reminisce on those lonesome days. I pray.Every words you say I show you I’m intrigued, yet you distance yourself in plain sight of me.Do you love yelling, or are you practicing for a speech? Does this hold something greater?I won’t jack up, and get rolled into Froedtert.But you don’t trust me, I can’t question whether you love me. But the way you show it hurts.I pray this thing inside births, and I make my money’s worth on every word in these poems I write.Though I love you these feelings I despise, I can see the disappointment in everyone’s eyes.And I begin to emulate all that you do, and say to me to him.I’m just pushing him away, because I hate letting people down.So being locked up in this chain, I begin to refrain from what I want, because I get tired of the groans.And when I’m all alone I wish to roam far from this place I’m in,Where the mat says,“welcome home.” The greeting travels underneath my skin.