#7: Without my voice

I can't speak

For me, that's a relief 

For all that seemed to come out when I spoke

Were a series of  "I shoulds" and "I shouldn'ts"

Each declaration - an ask too tall 

For my dreams and desires to scale.

And all that my words created was 

A monstrous, formidable dam 

Where there should've been a flowing river. 

I can't speak 

For you, that must be a relief 

For all you seemed to hear 

Were "you don'ts" and "why don't yous" 

Far outweighing the I love yous,

My questions just rhetorics 

Blocking any hope of reconciliation .

And all that my words created was

A fence of twisted barbed wire 

Where there should've been a park bench. 

I can't speak, 

For them, I bet it's a relief 

For now they can pat themselves proudly on their backs 

That they were right all along,

And make indisputable claims 

That their truth is mine.

The unfairness of it all crushing 

all questions I ever dared to ask,

Until all that is left are lofty pedestals 

When there should've been a welcoming dinner table. 

I can't speak

Which might as well be 

For the questions seem meaningless 

The demands too trite 

The pleas all futile. 

I can't speak. 

I don't miss the words 

even as I seek comfort in the silence 

ever so,
once in a while, 

I do miss the singing.