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I Still Haven't Found My Voice
Folder:
On Poetry The darkness in the world
Left me speechless;
My lips silent enough to hear
The screams in my own heart.
But somewhere along the way
I began to speak of
The atrocities found here,
Give the broken a voice.
But where is my voice?
When will what I think
Be exposed to the ears
Of the deafened world?
If I speak up of the
Pain in my own life,
Will they hear me
Beneath the cacophony
Of the million other shrieks?
