To Be Heard

To be honest

It doesn’t really matter who hears this

As long as someone does

In fact

To be honest

Not even reaching ears matters

Not really

Because writing [for me] is more

Than just a way for my voice to be heard

It’s endless introspection

Marked with my specific inflection

That does not require perfection

And though you might tell me I’m foolish

That work means nothing if it is not heard

That I may as well be chirping like a bird

Flying on wings that take me away

Making a melody that is perfect

If only to me

Having a view people aspire to

Higher than any tree

Happier than any of thee

Free

Careless

Loved

Beautiful

You may be right

That it might be pointless to write

If I am not going to be heard

But take one moment

To consider the foolishness

Of explaining to a bird

That it’s chirping is pointless

If it is not being heard