My Voice

I don’t know which is scarier,

The thought of not being heard,

Or the reality of being unheard.


Not once have I been applaud on the

Quality of my words,

Rather I’ve been mimicked and questioned

About the tone of my voice.


It’s high,




I can never get through the obvious without an

“I didn’t hear you.” Or “What did you say?”

It’s frustrating repeating over and over,

Day by day.


Why is it so easy for someone to say “Speak up”

But it’s so wrong for me to say “Listen Up”

Listen to my words,

Do you hear me?


I am labeled before one even gets to know me,

There goes “The Quiet Girl” or “The girl with the high voice”


& no I’m not shy,

Just conservative.

No I’m not quiet,

I just don’t find the need to speak all the time.


My voice is different.

My voice is unique.

My voice is my voice.





Guide that inspired this poem: 


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