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My Voice

 

Have I ever had a voice?

If I ever did, it’s been long since silenced.

Beaten down.

Ignored.

 

At one time, I’m sure

there was someone alive in there.

Burning need, desire, ambition;

longing to be free.

 

But my voice is now a mere

shadow of itself.

A glimmer, a memory, a thought

of someone I could have been,

might have been,

way back when.

 

But still, the seed of me,

of who I can be,

it burns, it needs, it longs.

 

My voice: it is not dead,

merely crushed.

Unrecognizable even to me.

But the faint echo of promise

has stirred within me.

I will speak.

 

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