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.

This poem is about: 
My community


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