They'll ask me, "Why can't you be quiet?". They'll tell me "Stop talking", as if my voice reminds them of nails on a chalkboard. They say, "You have no filter ", so I'll let my voice drown out the negative . I'll tell myself I'm nothing like my father, but as the years goes by, the boom in my throat seems to rickashe of the walls . Yet sometimes I put on the lotion of doubt and let it seep through my skin and feel my own jaw began to tighten and silence my roar. They say, "you talk way too much", so i speak up a little louder so they hear the power down my spine that can't be contained. I speak to be difffferent, I speak out loud to be heard. I speak up for my self, my rights, my dreams I am the narrator of my story, my voice will not be diminished by the ignorance no matter how hard they would like to try to ignore the buzz that xomes within. I'm not too loud, and if they try to silence me, i'll say, "God gave me a voice, I might as well use it".