I know this self(i.e me)

And it does not know

What it means to understand the difference between

Honesty and dishonesty

Since it never needed to know in the first place.

And this self(i.e me)

Has never covered its mouth with the trembling hand

With which I create my world.


Incredibly, I’m still intact and my words still fire

Out of my mouth, truthful and blunt,

Because this self(i.e me) doesn’t know the difference between

Modesty and boastfulness,

Since it’s all the same in the end.

They act as if there is a way to starve these words

That I scream my throat raw to get into their skulls

Because there is no other exit.


But this self(i.e me) is tired of being looked at

With wide eyes and open mouths and closed ears.

This self(i.e me) is blunt and loud because it wants,

No, demands that it be felt deep within

These prison cells that broken phrases can’t break free from

Because my honesty has been silenced;

A filter has been applied to these lips.


And I hate the way it’s made me bitter.

And I hate the way I’m not considered.

Maybe it’s my figure.

Maybe it’s my trigger-happy tongue.

Or maybe I’m not the one

Who’s lack of filter is not triumphant.

And I, with these bloodshot tears,

Am the filter-less self(i.e) they think is unclear.

This poem is about: 
My community
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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