Speak.

How many times.

Have they asked you what you want to be in the future?

They tell you to pick a career.

Of course you pick what you want to be.

Of course they tell you to be realistic.

Realistic?

My dream is not good enough?

You want me to do good at life.

I try.

My dream is what I’m working to.

I reach for the sky, but I touch the stars.

The will push us down.

They tell us to speak.

So we speak our heart out to them.

And they take it and smash it out on the ground.

Shattered glass.

Our hearts,

Are fragile.

You cannot hide them.

It’s hard enough to protect them.

But when we speak our minds they pull it out and temper with it.

The emotions.

Are hard to take.

No walls can keep them in.

The words spoke break them down.

And build concentration camps in our own minds.

The Massacre.

Of emotions.

Are not fun.

We’ve lost so much on this journey.

Some have fell.

Fallen.

Can.

We pick them up?

Our dreams.

Won’t always make it.

But we can sure try our d*mned best.

That’s all we got.

Our, best.

 

 

P.S Sorry for the cursing. You can send it back and I will change it. I got on a rant.

CK 6/2/2015

One thought on “Speak.

  1. I’m so sad my comment disappeared, as the initial reaction is always better than the recreation. However, I love the rawness of this poem, and it is my favorite poem of yours yet. I can almost hear it being read aloud. Powerful.

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