Turn Up the Radio

Turn up the radio, as high as it goes.

Drown out the echoing screams,

That tell you nothing,

But mean the world to me.

The inaudible screaming in my head,

Where the little monsters play.

Hidding in the shadows.


When it is quiet, their games begin.

They escape the cages I so carefully crafted,

Break down the walls I made,

And destroy the best that I am.

Their shrieking laughter the only thing to hear.


Little monsters that play around,

The toys you all gave them stored,

All the toys safe and sound.

Every day, and everywhere

More toys for them are found,

And stored away in my mind's underground.


When the silence comes,

And darkness settles,

In my mind their party starts.

So please turn up the radio,

To hide out the echoing screams

That I know haunt my head.

The screams I make when they play,

Dancing with their daggers, 

Claws and sharpened teeth,

Jeering and laughing at me.


Turn up the radio so that the music will drown

Every misconception I had of myself,

Every drop of doubt,

The shadowy creatures I created.

Turn up the radio until I can't hear,

Turn up the radio until I can't see,

Turn up the radio until I breath,

Turn up the radio until I cease to be.


Take the words that are spoken,

With the intention to hurt,

And every image that you know,

And keep them away.

Take them to the radio that once loudly played,

Take it to the radio they have turned off,

Turn it up.





This poem is about: 
My community
My country
Our world


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