I’m not much of a talker anymore. I don’t hold conversations‒ I dislike the discomfort of hearing My own voice dilute empty rooms And reminding me I’m powerless I’m not much of a talker anymore. It’s 2017, and I‒ I mean we‒ Still don’t have the power to speak for ourselves. Rather us, We fold the laundry While they ruin‒ I mean run‒ The world. In my household, My mouth was sewn shut Before I learned to use it as a weapon. And while my throat aches for the power to speak‒ My tired feet pleading for a break from the walk of shame. I‒ I mean we‒ Are tired of speaking Only to remain unheard.