The Muted Fedora

That voice was meant to sing.

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In a dull, musty corner, marked Lost and Found

All covered with dust and made not a sound.

I was once handsome, a fedora now flat

I now balk at the words: "Now that's a tall hat."

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Once a bold topper, with a clear voice,

I'd yell out, "Don't wear that! Now that's too much noise!"

But one fateful day, at the new start of school,

They blurted, "Please don't wear that, you look like a fool!"

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The chortles erupted and filled the hall,

My beige form turned red, l looked so small

I was then tossed in a box marked "too loud."

My brim then turned down, no longer so proud.

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I learned to stay quiet, curled up in my brim

Chose not to utter what broiled from within

The silence protected, but balm it was not

Unspoken needs festered, truth left to rot.

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Then came young Laura, who made not a noise—

She found that old box amongst her old toys

She put me on, and then came her voice—

She moves through the school with flair. quiet poise.

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I now speak soft, bold, but with tact,

With Laura in tow, I come forth with facts.

Those who laughed at my words, I tip with a grin—

For my song, once not voiced, is now set to begin.

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Original poem by Michelle Liew. AI tags are coincidental.