Wed, 07/26/2017 - 21:13 -- jenenb7

Words don't come flowing

like a pipe hose full of water overflowing.

Words come like bees buzzing hoping for something other than a voice of approval

or dissatisfaction at that.


When I was a younger my biggest, most impressive compliment was 

"you're so smart".

Never your so beautiful,

more like, "you look like your mom".

My mom was not beautiful, kind, or loving to me. 

She was just a blank space.


A black silhouette fading and dis-fading out of my anger. 

So words do not come simply out of me,

like a campaign for free speech

or freedom rings.


My voice is like a flower that grows ever so much with power

reaching out of the depths of sadness,

only to find grace in what the good lord handed.

So words don't come easy out of me. 

This poem is about: 
My family


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