Silenced

I remember when I could hear it;

When the universe would ring in my ears,

Buzz in the winds of my swingset.

I would turn around and swing,

Sing to the wooden fence in my backyard.

 

I knew the exact note to hum to harmonize with

The noises of everything, of nothing,

And everything in between all at once.

I didn’t understand that voice.

All I could think of was robots.

Maybe I wasn’t wrong to have those thoughts.

 

When I learned what “om” meant,

It all made sense and ever since,

I can’t stop growing phantom limbs

Everytime I close my eyes

And wrapping myself in them.

Maybe it’s loneliness.

Maybe it’s just boredom.

 

I like to believe in impossible things to keep myself entertained;

Things like: I can grow limbs when I close my eyes.

Like: If I concentrate hard enough, I can open doors with my mind.

Like: Somehow, I matter to the universe.

 

Most of my time then was spent swinging,

Singing to the wooden fence in my backyard.

Most of my time now is spent

Believing in impossible things to keep myself entertained;

Things like: I am safer in higher places.

Like: I could find you outside of myself.

Like: Somehow, I matter to the universe.

 

I will only ever speak these backhanded lies

Because nobody hears the truth.

I could read a thousand books and still be ignorant to the subject

Because words are poison coming from the brains of the youth.

When I ask “Who,” “why,” and “what if”

I am told I should instead be answering “Where” and “when.”

But I have answered,

And they shield themselves from that venom.

They cut out my tongue and

Use it as a platform to fix their own failures.

Maybe they’re lonely.

Maybe they’re just bored.

 

Maybe they believe in impossible things to keep themselves entertained;

Things like: Their failure is my fault.

Like: If they concentrate hard enough, they can control my mind.

Like: Obviously, they matter to the universe.

 

While I was swinging,

Singing to the wooden fence in my backyard,

They were drawing the blueprints for my future

And starting up the copy machine

And believing in impossible things

Like: They are safer in higher positions.

Like: They could find themselves through me.

Like: Clearly, they matter to the universe.

 

Now, when I try to remember the note to hum,

I’m off pitch.

I can’t find my balance because their pride got too big,

And I have to carry the weight.

I’m stuck in this cycle of reminding myself that

The only way through my life is through me,

And hoping they don’t think differently.

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