Some days it starts deep within,
Reaching out with winding hands and
Nervously shaking fingers,
The need to scrape down the bricks looming around my heart,
And open and let things fly out,
To let go of the hand which kept it all pressed down,
To let free the mind which shied away,
To free my wrists to bloom petals and my heart
To carve out words it never had before.
It’s a want;
A far cry from a right, but if you think of it,
All the same.
Because those days I demand to be heard, to be felt
Of all the little things my heart goes through,
Of all the things my mind is bursting to pour,
I demand this with both hands,
Grabbing up the chance to speak, to be heard,
I want this right now.
Some days, it’s a lull.
It just is, like I just am.
I feel it like a buzz, the need to speak out loud,
I feel it in the various ways I’m snubbed,
But I feel weak,
Too weak to point out,
Too weak to face the risk, so I just let it be,
Just like it always was.