Relief for the Siletious

My voice is little but wants to be loud
It screams from the stage but expects to be drowned.
The sea is too massive for my voice to sail.
My voice sighs when it’s yearning to wail.
My small voice can’t carry the novel it wrote
With the paper of pain and the pencil of hope.
My heart cries, “try it,” my voice whispers, “lost”
And my brain calculates opportunity costs.

Poetry Slam: 

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