What Kills
Today, there will be two posts. The first will be poetry and the second will be an update on L. McCaslin. So, without further ado, here's today's poem.
What Kills
What is it that kills?
It is the silence and the noise that comes.
The silence of not being able to say
My father hit me; my mother said I’m not worth anything,
My boyfriend raped me, my brother molested me.
It’s people not seeing the broken, bleeding, body on the floor,
It’s silence that kills.
The noise that comes is often the words flowing
From mouth to mouth “Did you hear about…”
The hurtful uncaring, callous, and hateful things said.
It’s the voices that kill.
In stillness all I can see is the hateful superiority of
How you think you’re better than me.
In my head all I can hear are the words of
Condemnation and hatred, there are no other words.
Why can’t you see me on my knees begging, and screaming?
I want your help, I need your help, and yet there is
Only my gagged cry and your voices killing me.
You want to know why it is I cut myself, both metaphorically and literally.
It’s because it’s the only way that you can see me or hear me.
It’s the only way that my soundless screams make it to your ears.
Who am I? I’m here walking beside you,
One you see the damage and still ignore.
One of those you condemn for something out of my control.
The ones that you won’t look at or forgive because you feel that
You are perfect without sin, yet I can see that you too
Suffer the silence and noise that kills.
