I have spoken the words of others
for far too long
or maybe,
others talked through me
borrowing my voice
dismantling my speech as it is uttered
the shattered puzzle of my thoughts
is reconstructed as seen fit
to benefit the battle fought
by strumming on my chest
and plucking on my vocal cords
and patting on my crest as if to say
Behold!
Your mangled call has brought
the sunrise once again.
You are entitled to its glow.
how dare I stop
when dawn is on the line?
might as well hum the notes
the fiddler plays
as I march forth to oblivion
obedient, and mute.