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A poem. A confession. An apology for every time silence won.
Words never came easily to me.
I had to push ‘em out,
Squeeze ‘em out,
Wring ‘em out.
And when they came,
All misshapen and bleedin’—
I had to press ‘em out,
Iron ‘em out,
Hang ‘em out to dry.
As if I’m tellin’ the whole world:
Here’s a fresh slice of my heart,
A juicy slab of my soul,
Raw and drippin’ with blood,
Bare for all to see.
—But maybe it’s okay,
If it’s you who sees.
Cause this is my atonement
For all the times I stayed silent
When I should’ve screamed.