It started as a whisper.
I lacked confidence in my dreams, and spoke softly.
You brushed my hopes aside, for I was only a child.

I grew and matured, hoping you'd hear my older, more deliberate wish.
Yet in your eyes, I was still a child.
I spoke louder, hoping my volume was the issue.
Yet, you acted like I did not speak.
But I DID speak.
As Webster said, I was expressing my thoughts, opinions and feelings ******.

I spoke firmly.
I spoke strongly.
I spoke pleadingly.
As time passed, my body grew,
along with confidence in myself and my dreams.
I spoke again, a different woman.
I spoke again, for others said I could do anything, for I was me.
I spoke again, more forcefully than ever before, causing echoes in the room.
I was sure you had heard me.
Yet you shot me down, ignoring me and my voice.

And then I screamed.
I screamed until our neighbors, friends and family,
from Korea to California
heard my voice.
I screamed until the dogs in the shelters (and the sitting rooms)
yelped in alarm.
I screamed until wine glasses (and my heart) shattered into a million pieces and fell on the floor.
I screamed until my sound echoed off the mountains and caused the birds on the trees flew away in fear.
I screamed until I fell on the floor, sobbing at your feet.

I screamed at you,
I screamed at me,
I screamed at god.
And no one heard me.

You have muted my voice,
My throat is now hoarse.
But I am still screaming.