It’s amusing to think how we use words everyday
Though it’s the unseen that says the most, the unsaid
That screams the loudest
The mouths of today focus on feeding upon reciting Facebook feeds,
The latest most liked tweet,
The filters for your selfies – the perfect painted veil for a background of a thousand shattered china plates,
Which you become the moment the day is done, the stitching of your smile
Sighing with relief, unraveling as only your diary fills with the truth from shaking wounded hands that once again tried to stop a plate from chipping,
Only your bedroom wall goes through its weekly routine of watching every tear fall.
And you see that same wall everywhere, blocking you from people,
Lowering the volumes of your pleads, you don’t want them to see you’re in need – you can’t.
The mask that blinds them has no opening for a mouth
You’ve become a clown, jokes automatic, juggling your struggling in one hand, the other
Straining around your new best friends’ claws: misery, isolation,
Emptiness overfilling, desperation for an exit sign over spilling
But silence is a killer, why let it continue killing?
Consider the conscience crowded with a clutter of crazies
Though tongues only dotted with declarations of sanity.
The way we communicate has become a prison cell with too many corners and no windows,
The sounds of our own cracked, empty voices bouncing back at us
The limit of 140 soulless, expressionless characters has shut us up and in,
The embodied pill of forgetfulness on how to pick the lock
And open up to get help, to admit a smile’s fake.
But has the rain of melancholy and judgment rooted our feet to its wet earth?
We, the raindrops, laughing, “get over it” with each pitter as we’re soaked
“She’s so emo” – that’s easy to say,
It’s not like we’re humans with these things I guess are called feelings.
It’s comments like these that stop us –
To understand the truth we have to seek for it, not hide it, shove it away because it’s too frightening to bare, to finally confront the hidden scars people wear
Sadness has become a much too common name, and yet no one can place its face – it’s that one post no one likes to share.
And I see a continuing suffocating aisle of different bedroom walls and want to break down each one.
Ignoring isn’t the solution, smiling is an illusion, so don’t mistake silence for pleasure when someone has become a victim of our weather.
We have to learn how to open up again, free what’s inside to unleash our true spoken minds
Hold a hand instead of a phone for a change, to make a change
And maybe you’ll also make a real sunny smile overcome the rain.
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this is what i wrote for the slam poem assignment in my english class last year.
