Voices

My voice is quiet,

Folding in upon itself.

It hides from all those questions,

Spoken carelessly with snark.

 

You see, my life’s worthless.

The price tag reads zero,

Attempts to build it up again,

Remain shadows in the dark.

 

I have followed a dream,

Something others don’t quite get.

They flow with the growing tide,

Surrounded by regrets.

 

Outsiders, outliers, outspoken,

They call us,

We turned against the current,

Fought against fearful threats.

 

Our dreams called to us,

Bid us forward with such love.

Yet two steps forward, one step back,

Is what our lives become.

 

Strengthen your voice,

As I try to shout with mine.

There is no telling what might be,

When we embrace our own wisdom.

 

Resist the shackles,

The world wants to bind us with,

And sing your song.

There is always someone wanting to listen.

 

You may feel worthless,

You may be at your wit’s end,

But let me tell you,

We are all friends among friends.

When you’re a writer sometimes you have to spend time poking at a part of yourself that normal, sane people leave alone. ~Vikram Chandra

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