You Can’t Keep A Writer Down

I wrote this after having a conversation that left me feeling frustrated and beaten down; when I moved back from college, one of my primary lines of thinking was that I didn’t have a voice. And with certain people, sometimes I’m left feeling like they don’t see me, they don’t hear me, nor do they want to. 

Lately I find myself resentful of not being able to talk about what I want to talk about. What I need to talk about. There are days where it’s rooted in fear of somebody holding a grudge against me for it, and then there are days where I have no idea how to express myself verbally. From where I’m sitting now, it’s a little bit of both. 

But when it comes to writing, it’s a different story. There is freedom, and there is hope. 

You Can’t Keep A Writer Down 

These feelings sit inside, churning and burning
I cannot sleep or even think
The desire to speak is so strong
I ask for an opportunity, and am initially received well

I express a the need to heal
To do so in the form of words on paper
What I once knew, shattered by one who stands oblivious all of it

It’s not about revenge, but about self-protection
I only know him by instinct, nothing which indicates kindness and care 
His actions certainly indicate such
I have no reason to trust or believe in someone
Who can’t take responsibility 

And yet I’m the one silenced
Though I didn’t ask for this
She speaks of consequences that don’t make sense
Reaching for a sense of control that is no longer
Like a young child
As though she’s more concerned for him than me

But I have a voice, I realize
Not my mouth, but my pen and the strength of my heart
Not to use for hurt, but to overcome
To release what I was taught to ignore and deny

By this you’ll get a lion instead of a mouse
Thunder, fire, anything but quiet submission
I cannot make anyone hear me, though listening is an act of love
God made me a writer 
And you can’t keep a writer down

photo credit: pedrosimoes7 via photopin cc

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