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Cleo Nov 2017
I used to say I’d be nothing like him
A mama’s girl, fierce and fearless
But there is fear.
I am afraid of what I feel
Of the anger that swells
Of my inability to stop the tide
Of the time my mother and I fought
And she whispered
you’re just like your father
I am afraid of evolution.
A slow process
That can change a harmless thing
Into something else entirely
I don’t want to be that something
But in my head a voice tells me
You can’t deny your roots
And by roots I mean a grave
That dug itself into the earth when I was born
And waits for me still
When will I become your sickness
An emotional  minefield where no one walks
A sadness that makes my feet drag
I refuse to become the person I fear
Because although evolution cannot be stopped
I am the mutation.
And I will not become the man who brought me here.
Cleo Nov 2017
If I cannot sing then I won’t.
It is bad to ignore the rules.
I am good so I must follow the rules.

If I cannot sing then I will open my mouth only to breath.
After all, I must breath to live.
I am not doing anything wrong.
I am not a criminal.

If I cannot sing then I will speak.
Conversation with others
With myself
With the moon
Speaking does a person good.

If I cannot sing then I will hum.
This is not at all like singing.
I need not even open my mouth.
I just have this song replaying in my head
And I must hum
But I will not sing.
I love this song...

If I cannot sing then I will listen to others sing
After all, it’s their downfall
Not mine.
I’m just someone in the background
Listening.
mouthing the words

If I cannot sing.. why can’t I sing?
I want to sing
I feel it is right to sing
But I know I mustn’t.
But why?

If I cannot sing I will do so behind closed doors.
It’s not a crime if no one sees it.
I sing for hours.
After years of quiet
my voice is hoarse and timid.
But I still sing
And no one can know.

If I cannot sing
Who am I if not a slave
Who are they if not the masters
What is this if not tyranny
I will sing.
I am singing.
I am dead.

If I cannot sing
I will
                                     Now

                                      you
                                     must
Learn to sing
Cleo Nov 2017
To hold the heart in your palm
A red that stains
A pulse in the veins
The one warm thing in the air
To pull it close and feel it flare
Cleo Nov 2017
Your expectations are a plate I cannot finish
I eat until I am full
Until I am sick
What they say is food
feels to me like poison
I try to leave the table
But my plate is still unfinished
Eat
But I am full
My stomach can not handle
The words you try to feed me
They are watching
Plates are empty
But their portions are smaller
Don’t you understand
It’s not possible
Anything is possible
Those words will bring more suffering
And I will eat them until I *****
Every morsel of food expelled onto the table
The neatly folded napkins in disarray
The disdainful looks
What my body did to heal me
Is what lead them to disgust
I am now alone at the table
empty as I was

— The End —