what you don't know
is that a voice of your own
comes out through your throat.
you hear it like a siren call--
how can i escape?
is there a fire?

what you don't know
is that you're not a bomb.
you were made with no fuse,
no timer,
no intent to self destruct.
you have no fate.

what you don't know
is that your mother and father
would rather hold you
as someone they never expected
than find your familiar body,
lying there, without your voice.

what you don't know
is that the world you fear
does not fear you.
it has homes for you,
like nests,
that are not in exile.

what you don't know
is that you are far more beautiful
when you cry for help
than when you laugh in fear,
but you are most beautiful
when you blame yourself
for neither.