PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Voice On Paper


Voice on Paper I grew up, my voice unheard Quiet and invisible I would live my life. My thoughts, my dreams, all unspoken words Twisting in the depths of my mind like a knife. I grew up, as a disabled child. Being told I could never be all I wanted to be. To people, my voice was like the worst type of bile, And was better to be silenced, to never be free. I grew up, always being mocked. And when I wasn't, I was isolated. Inside the school doors, my spirit was locked With the beasts that my heart, they hated. I grew up, my voice unclear Never given a chance to truly try My heart turned to stone, I wouldn't shed a tear Of the gift of voice, I would let it die. I grew up, cold and hard. Never letting anyone close. The girl in the mirror was nothing but a shard And the me I envisioned, a ghost. I grew up, a shattered piece of glass, But on the outside, no one could tell A shadow in the world of mass Quiet in my little world of hell. I grew up, one day I went crazy, My mask fell to the ground I can't tell you much, the memory's hazy, I became a prisoner, to violence I was bound. I grew up, I was put away. In a place where I was told I was supposed to be A place cruel, far too cruel for me to even say, A place I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy. I grew up, my voice grew I couldn't hold it anymore, That place that tried to silence me, their plan ran askew I learned what speaking was for. I grew up, I found God Hidden in the darkness of that place It was Him that held me as I cried, Him that gave me a new face. I grew up, I became healed, Something that wasn't possible for me My true self was released, the shadow sealed, For the first time, my dreams were free. I grew up, I struggled and fought, Trying to find my voice. I sang, I acted, but my song was cut Those were never a real choice. I found writing one day In an old classroom where all were gone. The sun peeked in from the windows at bay, And though I was by myself, I wasn't alone. I was crying that day,I remember it well, Though I was healed I was still hurt Because classmates had not stopped being the torturers of my hell And the wall was kept up around my heart. And in the silence of the room, There was a small notebook with blank paper Never would I dream that in my gloom That God would send this to be my savior. The words sprang forth on their own, I could hardly keep up All the emotions I could never atone And instead kept bottled up. For fourteen years I had lived in silence The words wrenched in my mind On the paper my voice screamed in delight On the paper, my mouth could open wide. I sang, I shouted, I screamed out in pain Exhumed by this new found release Both excited and frightened by the euphoria of my brain And the words that would not cease How many pages did I fill that day? I still can't remember But oh the emotions, oh the words I sang! Growing steadily like an ember. I call it an ember because like a fire This addiction to the paper grew fast My words unheard, my innate desire All the resentment of my past I grew up, I grew with the paper Like a song that never ended Ever growing, ever reaching My words would never be suspended. This voice on paper I grew to love, And soon I loved to speak God had used writing to make me strong And cleanse what once was weak. Now I can speak, without any fear, Of retribution or spite My gift was established, my purpose was finally here I would cling to it with all my life. My life began those years ago, I was reborn when I was fourteen My voice became joy out of sorrow Thanks to the God that rescued me. He gave me a gift that only a few have A voice that can be fully heard on paper I grew up, I grew out of my wall and broke it down Now I use this gift for others. All the words that you read here Started as a voice on a piece of paper in my fourteenth year.
©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

kaitlynchosenisme

View all poems →

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (0)

No comments yet. Be the first to share your thoughts.

Log in to leave a comment.