Ripped gag

For most of my childhood, I had a gag wrapped around my face.

I never felt like I could speak my mind.

I never had a friend that I could pour my mind and my heart out to,

no one who would let me bleed my secrets out onto the clean, white carpet.

The world said "boys don't cry," "conceal don't feel," and other filthy lies.  

So books became my friend. 

Words sprawled across the page, holding my stained glass heart and my dirty hands.  

I held the pages carefully, afraid to smudge them, fearful that my unclean thoughts might soil theirs.

They told me of fauns with umbrellas, of tiny men holding magic rings, of wizards and magic.

They told me of black people fighting oppression with courage, and those who would rather die than lose their freedom.

They told me of love, lust, peace, hate, ugly truths, and beautiful lies.

Books became my friend because they saw through my disguise.  

Freedom to read gave me the strength to speak. 

Books ripped off the gag from my mouth.

Now because others had pens, I've learned to use my mouth.  

To be vulnerable, afraid, but still let others figure me out.

I know my weakness is my strength, and that I can stand on my broken legs.

So books are my friend.  

They raised me, they praised me, they gave me a voice.

I know it sounds crazy, but they gave me a choice.

Now I live life ungagged, now I know I'm free.

Books gave me the courage to finally be me.