I am mostly quiet now.
Yet what happens in my life writes a story in my flesh.
Pain is never silent. Suffering is never quiet.
I am mostly quiet now though.
My body and brain scream in agony while
I’ve been well trained in the utter futility of making any sound
I must beg your forgiveness for
the extra wrinkles aging me at the speed of five years of heartbreak,
and a lifetime of accepting
(I am mostly quiet now, though)
The permanently furrowed brow
The way my skin almost shrieks aloud now when touched
The dead weight behind my eyes
The way my once-smiling mouth pulls further down at the edges each day
(But I am mostly quiet now.)
For the way my brain screams at too much noise
Yet weeps at the unending unnatural shrieks of silence…
Resounding with pathetic pleas to matter
I plead daily for mercy for the weight of my existence, the curse of my birth.
I know only these things:
No one should have to spend a lifetime begging for love, desperate for mercy, pathetic for humanity.
Not even one…
and I am mostly quiet now.