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Strying Jan 2021
I try to speak because
I have so many thoughts
and stories to tell
yet I can't find the words
and my head just yells them
arguing back and forth,
what do I say next?

my mind is at war
and I'm just trying to win the battle,
a battle just to open my mouth
but I always seem to lose.
So I just sit there, silent.

And even my tears
seem to
fall
without a sound.
I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY BUT ITS SO HARD TO SPEAK
kiran goswami Jan 2021
That’s all it takes to make a woman quiet,
to silence her.

A slap, a word, a scream, an eye
and perhaps a kiss too.

But there’s a different story for my mother.
For the three words, she spoke
while her heart was struggling to keep alive,
She was given a slap.

A slap whose loudness,
I still hear somedays
when I go to bed and when my mother wakes up.

I think she has been silent for too long
to even count now.
So, I pretend I never heard her speak in the first place.

But there is a different story for my sister.
For her Thumbelina sized request,
she was shouted on like Lady Tremaine did.

In a voice so loud that
It was all she could hear for years to come by.

So, while hearing that, she forgot to speak.
She did not know who to search for
when your ‘Prince Charming’ becomes your ‘Wicked Step-Mother’.

But there is a different story for her.
For tears in her eyes
and the words that were just a zygote in her mouth’s womb,
she got a stare.

A stare, that froze her down
and her words had to go through a miscarriage

So, she went through an unplanned abortion
that made her mouth infertile.

But there’s a different story for her.
However, somehow, they are all the same.

Because that’s all it takes to make a woman quiet,
to silence her.

A slap, a word, a scream, an eye
and perhaps a kiss too.
Juno Dec 2020
i feel the need to scream
but all ears are turned away.
i move my lips to talk
but the words won’t come today.
eleanor prince Dec 2020
'Will you be my daddy?'
the girl in the woman whispered
to yet another lover, acquaintance,
man in the street who looked remotely
like he might just step in the phantom's shoes

...and the ache burned on
the searing, tearing
rags aflame
screamed
hot

and cold
as dry ice,
as unsuitable
whiskered men
became barnacled

to a little child's longing
to have a better papa than
the one that arrived to bash
all decency out of the fibre of

a life torn
This poem has welled up in response to one I have just reposted, penned by a deeply impacting, candid write by poet Joe Thompson.   Not all have the privilege of having known a decent human father, one we can be proud to call our own.   Of course, it would be unwise to seek to make any adult have to try to fill those shoes. The responsibility for wellness in adulthood rests with the one now no longer a child in calendar years. The 'adult' self needs to protect the 'child' inside and gently and firmly help them heal so that only safe partners are sought, with a view to experiencing and enjoying healthy relationships.   I would be honoured if you could leave a comment on what thoughts and feelings arise in you as you read my poem.  Thank you so much. (P.S. I appreciate knowing of any typos, however in Australia it is correct to write 'fibre' not 'fiber' and 'honoured' not 'honored')
wizmorrison Dec 2020
I grinned while seeing your grave,
You are now buried there alive,
I can hear your screams in my head,
See you in hell, my old good friend.
From my Coffin Of Thoughts in Wattpad.
JKirin Dec 2020
Hear the call.
Let the darkness enwrap you, entrap you.
After all,
Lost in silence, empty defiance,
Is your soul.
Let it scream in the darkness.
Hear the call.
about welcoming the darkness
Simran Guwalani Dec 2020
We yearn to be understood
by those who don't understand.
we explain to those who don't even want to listen,
let alone lend a helping hand.
There are only a few who get us truly,
only a few who understand what we say.
And even fewer who understand profusely,
what we don't say, what our expressions don't display.
These are the ones who know,
that the times when the quietest are we,
the time when silent is all we can be,
isn't the time when our voice is lost,
it's the time when we are actually screaming the most.
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