Voiceless

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Voiceless

I must have been voiceless.

How else can I explain that no one heard me screaming?

You, my teacher, who got after me for being distracted.

Didn’t you see the bags under my eyes, and wonder why I was getting no sleep?

You, the principal, who got after me for getting angry at my classmates

Hadn’t they told you the names I was being called?

You, my gym coach, who got after me for not wanting to change with the other boys

Did it ever occur to you to ask me why?

Or why I was bleeding from my backside ?

And you, my classmates does your youth excuse your cruelty?

Did you ever stop, ever think, ever feel ?

When you called me a sissy, did you see something I was trying to hide?

Or was it just the worst insult you could think to give me?

I wish I had found my voice then.

But I would have gotten hoarse from screaming ...

Well, guess what, all of you.

I found my voice now.

And it was the voice of a woman, not a boy.

And I will never be voiceless again.

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Comments

You weren't voiceless. It's

You weren't voiceless. It's just that no one was listening.

Ban nothing. Question everything.

Dorothy...

Sometimes we don't speak loudly enough for others to hear our voices. Also we often hide our true selves because we fear how much worse things will be if we shout out our truth.

Now you have found your voice and are showing us your unmistakeable truth. So now we understand you better than before.

"Speak your truth quietly and clearly; and listen to others, even the dull and the ignorant; they too have their story" - DESIDERATA

Just keep talking and I will keep listening.

Ruth

May the sun always shine on your parade

speaking the truth

I cant even begin to describe how good it feels to be open and honest.

Thanks for listening, Ruth.

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Very nice

Painful though they may be, I always enjoy your poetry. Just on the meter, I found this one interesting. First time through I read it like it was a sonnet, but then read it again like it was a gospel preacher - I think it worked better that way.

And on content, also nice - you remember painful times, but this is definitely a story about triumphing over that. Thanks,

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Titania

Lord, what fools these mortals be!

I sound like a gospel preacher?

well, I have listened to enough of them to capture the feel of it ...

thanks for commenting, Titania

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A different point of view

I doubt you were voiceless.
They were def and dumb as a rock. That was the principal in my high school.

I was so glad to have left.

some refuse to hear

and then often when a tragedy happens, they wonder what went wrong ...

Glad you survived, BillieBob, and thanks for commenting.

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When no one wants to hear

and your scared it is so easy to be voiceless. I was asked often why I was so self destructive, even though my therapist knew and had told one of the 'Counselors' at school I loved that quote the most "So you let the devil control you."
Yes Hypersexuality, with dependency and necessity, was what the determination was but the 'counselor' nun was sure I was not praying enough or right.

So never spoke to them about it again, though I still had one person I could talk too, So i had my Dear Aunt Bailey(no Relation to our Ms Summers) So sorry you had to wait so long Dorthy, but so very happy to hear your voice now. And the huggles were so much more than I expected for just 50 princess points so We send another 1000 in fair trade

Goddess Bless you

Love Desiree

Unspoken cries for help...

Beautiful and heart-wrenching. An eloquent passage about the pain felt when we don't use words... And our unspoken pleas for help go unnoticed or ignored.

Hugs (can I send a huggle? - they seem a little like tribbles without the trouble.)

A.

huggles are like tribbles?

they can be a handful if their target tries to avoid being hugged by them ...

Thanks, Ankh.

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Lately I've been feeling...

...old memories resurfacing. This seems to happen when I start writing stories like I've been working on recently. Some of the memories felt too impossible to be real. I started reading through some stories here to pull me out of funk I was sinking into. It definitely helped, but shadows from the past still hovered around me.

Then, I found your autobiographical stories. Normally, I tend to shy away from anything like that, because I know more than a few of use had some really ... just ... bad stuff happen. But today, I really felt a need to know I wasn't the only one, so I dived into what looked like the scariest story headfirst.

Even though it hurt to see what was only hinted at here, I'm glad I read it, because I could see, even though such awful stuff happened, you were still able to find your voice. There's still times when I still can't speak, but I'm finding my voice. Maybe, when enough of us speak up, more kids will be heard.

Thank you for speaking up.

{{{warm huggles}}}

Heather Rose

I'm glad reading this helped you

getting stuff like this out has helped me, but I never dreamed it might help others.

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We are our own worst enemy...

RobertaME's picture

...because we know our own thoughts. How many times have we told ourselves, "What good could I ever do? What use does my life even serve? I am just a worthless nobody."

I know my own answer. Every minute of every day. My own journey was easy compared to yours, but even I knew the pain and isolation of being surrounded by people who would not see or hear. I didn't need to tell them. They knew and looked away. When I was being beaten by my stepfather... they knew and looked away. When I was getting beaten up every day after school... they knew and looked away. When I felt the betrayal as a teacher watched while I lay on the ground bleeding from yet another assault on my young body... they knew and looked away.

Teachers, Principals, Counselors, Police officers, and even my own family... they knew and looked away. How long can that go on before you begin to feel that it's because you deserve it? Not long at all, really. Once is more than enough. Is it any wonder that we are our own worst enemy? We were trained to hate ourselves by those who were supposed to be our guardians and protectors by their simple acts of apathy.

And yet, here we stand, stronger and still kicking, despite their best efforts to drive us to the grave, either through neglect or our own hands. That gives us a power. It gives us something that they lack. It gives our words meaning that their silence can never hide.

What good can you do? You give solace to those who share your wounds, for only someone who has seen the evil can recognize it and give it a name. Only one who has suffered the way you have can tell another that it can and does get better... that giving in to despair just means that they win... that the misery never gets the chance to turn to something wonderful.

You.

Hugs.

I've been very lucky

once I started being honest, I found more support than I ever dreamed.

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