My Life In Word

MY VOICE

The external voice
Inside my head
Is so loud
That I fear
My voice 
May be dead
But how can something
That has never thrived
Be without life?
Its only known
The edge
Of a serrated knife
Whose teeth have
Caught and ripped
And sliced
Me into individual pieces
Of someone else's creation
The words that fall
From my lips
Are a false dictation
Of another man's
Ill-fated life
Cloaked in disenchantment 
And strife

Today, I choose to quell
That foreign voice
Inside my head
I will nurture and develop
My voice instead
I will heal the wounds
From that serrated knife
I will mend the pieces
That have been ripped and sliced
So, that when I speak
It will be my voice
That you hear
Brazen and strong
Profound and clear

Simona A. Brinson

Photo by Jason Rosewell on Unsplash

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