I’ve been asked to speak louder,
How loud should I go?
I don’t know what my voice sounds like.
I don’t know how loud it can go.
It’s not that I’m afraid, to say these words,
it’s that I feel fear, when I say my words.
You see truth hurts when you feel cursed
to speak what you perceive.
No I don’t need no voodoo, to see reality,
but I do do some voodoo, ’cause that is real to me.
The one thing I offer, with truth, is a hug.
But the truth is I lost my voice
way beneath the rug.
See I do know that I can speak
softly and QUITE LOUD,
but my throat’s still weak
each day each week,
it’s work to make a sound.
Each time I talk the mask snaps back,
losing my own wind-pipe.
That’s why I take the pause to write,
when I could simply talk-right?
Cause truth is that I loathe the world,
every day n’ night.
And in loathing I find the love,
all love is what I have, in-sight.
So maybe it’s okay to speak,
if truth is what we need,
to find the light in all our pains,
to make our own good deeds.