Silent Voice

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic

This poem, is about a writer who feels undervalued, and just want their writings to be appreciated.

Submitted: August 05, 2018

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Submitted: August 05, 2018



I say a lot of things, with no sounds, 

my head begins to speak when no one is around, 

my thoughts are an expression of what I feel,

and it become real, I speak without a question,

I write to teach others a lesson, I reckon,

If I continue this route, maybe my writing will sprout,

but as I write more, my mind becomes silenced, and I 

fall victim to doubt, I want out of my mind, but it'll 

take me out of line, silence is the expression, 

of a lonely world, mostly I think, and it takes me for a whirl,

I put my spirit into the words that I write, I put my heart in my writing,

like I donated blood to the ink, I make stains with my words,

by no means is it a mistake, I let my mind take over, and my hands 

do the typing, so why am I being misrepresented in my writing,

it's like literature is its own God, an it's my religion, I just need 

an exstention on my judement day to do it right, and pray literature is 

forgiving, yes I'm a procrastinator, an I dont get shit done,

but my heart got a lot to say, and it's weighing a ton,

I dont do this for recognition, I do it for laughs and fun,

but ever since I fell in love with it, I felt like my artistry 

has already won, I get distracted a lot, and wont write for days,

but when I do, it's like I'm caught in a daze,

I got a book of poems, that no one has ever read, and it's becoming a dead end, 

Like turning down the street of dread, I'm a poet and a writer, with a silent voice,

got a lot to say, but it always return back void, I wanna be appreciated, when I'm alive,

and not see my accomplishments the moment I die. 

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