Wanting to be Heard
I write for days, I write for nights,
Emotions flooding, publishing in my sight.
I write about me, about my brother and mom,
I write about those who have helped and done me wrong.
I read my work and cry as I do,
I present and speak, submit, and learn there is nothing I can do.
Those who were to published turned upside down,
My throat was ripped out, my voice spoke not a sound.
Retreating to silence a hand reaches out,
A newspaper company presents itself.
Publish my essay and open the doors,
To small ones who cannot speak as openly as yours.
They write under a title called “This I Believe”,
And I publish the best one I see.
Every week I am written to with hundreds of voices,
Every week I learn how hard it is to make choices.