𝙿𝚘𝚎𝚝𝚒𝚌 𝚅𝚘𝚒𝚌𝚎

They said: find your voice,

but mine crawled out from the cellar

with scribble-stained teeth

and a claws shaped like scream,

A long, dragged out scream.

*

Ink doesn’t bleed without a wound,

And here we are -

paper-cut confessions bleeding into birds

too broken to fly,

too proud to crawl.

*

The pen shakes.

Not from fear,

but the weight of saying something real

in a world that flinches at honesty

like it’s a lit match.

*

You want truth?

Then bite it -

Taste the sickly skin sliding

down your throat, bittering your

fantasies of sweet lies.

*

You want voice?

Really?

What if the voice is a siren?

What if every metaphor is just

a lock we pick to find a darker room?

*

We write not because we understand,

but because we don't.

Because silence is a grave

and we’re all clawing upward

with verses for fingernails.

*

Even a lie wrapped in rhythm

can feel like freedom.

Even a monster, when it rhymes,

is easier to forgive.

*

Sometimes

the only way to say it

is to tear it apart

until the voice is raw

and what’s left isn't pretty -

but it's true.

-------------

Notes:

Whew, took the longest time to cook up a fitting poem for this prompt 'Poetic Voice' - i had a complete block for at least 20 minutes.

I always thought “Finding your voice” sounded so poetic, and some of them have claws, bad posture, and a lot of unresolved issues - This piece is basically for people who've ever tried to "speak their truth" and it came out more like a scream than a poem (been there).

Anyways thanks for reading!