What did your childhood sound like?


Did it sound like  a crowd cheering when you scored the winning point?  Or, the sound of your friend teaching you to roll a joint. The sound of sirens.  And it feels so right to be doing things wrong. The sound of the engine revving.  Or, the sound of a car radio blasting a new rap song about violence. Or, coming home to the sound of silence, because nobody's there. Or, the sound of the raspy voices in your head when you think nobody cares. Or, the sound of gunshots at nighttime that are to close for comfort. So you text all your friends to make sure no one is hurt.  Or, the sound of the school bell, The sound your feet make when you run out of the building like you're running from Hell, thinking who am I kidding i'll never be good enough.  Or, the sound of an envelope tearing open with your grade card inside. watching all of the color drain from your Dad's face including his pride. Or, the sound of him yelling, telling you that you're weak when he sees that first tear drop roll down your cheek. Or, the sound of your conscience calling you fat. Yeah, there's that. The sound of your stomach growling with hunger when you refuse to eat. " Jeez, you're so FAT you can't even see your feet ."

What did your childhood sound like?

Did it sound  like sticks held by police destroying your families poppy field? The sound of  your mom trying to silence your brother and sister when they squealed. All you want is to end all this pandemonium. What's even so wrong with *****? your whole family is addicted. But everyone was. There's nothing really to be convicted of. even the snakes and mice are addicts. does that mean the animals are also convicts? not to mention, where your from it's used as medicine. The sound of a Marine holding a gun as big as a machine saying it's just routine as he scans your fathers eye so he's easier to identify. He's just an ordinary Afghan. I'ts not like he's a Mad Man, You think. then you feel your heart start to sink to the pit of your stomach. As all of a sudden,  You hear the sound of you family crying. and you're watching your Father dying in front of you. killed, by Insurgents. An obvious divergence of opinions. As you wonder how they could even make that decision to take your Fathers life, right in front of his children and Wife. the sound of your stomach growling with hunger. any found food goes to your siblings because they're younger. the Poppies were your only income. You never cared about money, now you'd do anything to earn some. The sound of Marines teaching you to grow wheat instead. It's not the same but it's something to eat so you don't wind up dead.

No matter what your childhood sounded like, you're more then the things you've heard. no matter where you are in the world, you're not stuck there you're as free as a bird. No matter what you've been through, You're a survivor. Never give up, you were born a fighter. So, before you make judgmental misconceptions, remember there are no exceptions. It doesn't really matter what for, everyone you know is battling their own war.
© copyrighted *Nicole Ann Osborn

The sound of peace silenced by a thousand guns at war
Silenced by a thousand voices with words they have used before
The avenues of unity and humanity, no longer do the voices explore
My heart and my soul they suffer , I bleed with the torture from within, the actions of so many I so deplore
Serenity subdued, quite conveniently quashed, the hands of the perpetrators so easily washed ,those who seek, left behind left out there in the wild the bleak, voiceless and destitute, forever free,and forever resolute
The sound of peace is the noise of those  who endure, those whose thoughts lean towards pure, maddened by the monstrosity of life with its parade of parasites, a disease with no cure, the sound of white noise  to keep peace from your door
The sound of peace the crying of an orphan child, a refugee before he's turned three, the politics of peace in the land of his father, is the sound of desolation, a way to dampen and eradicate the sound of inspiration, this sad child knows only a sound so wild, the sound of a land viciously *****, and from its pavements of beggars, streets of vagrants , it can never be scraped.
The sound of our sovereignty, the sound of our ruling state, the sound of a cash machine, the sound of another devious deal declared, into the dark hours of deceit the sound of brokers exchanging gifts as they fictitiously negotiate
The sound of our country, the sound of our victory, the sound of our old dying in care homes fit only for dying rats, the sound of the nhs run by pompous over paid blood ******* fat cats, as patients and nurses suffer, they continue to help each other, the sound of our great land, whispers and secret deals with the upper echelons who have always had the upper hand,
The sound of now , this modern age , the sound of your child crying at 42, faced with a torture of finance , a restraint of  existence and excess responsibility, no reason to be no reason to do, more so than ever a slave to the wage that seems to furnish so much more for others, you can only sit by and listen to the sound of brothers killing brothers
Our greatest new age noise the suicide inducing tremor of look at what we have created and how it is so silent those who turned out as the great gift of capitalism was celebrated, silent if it were not for the greatest noise you can hear, it grows and grows void of any past fabled fear