Loud

Loud

You have seen a raging bitch

Calm down into a peaceful girl.

Now you shall see a peaceful girl

Be stirred into a raging bitch.

Hushing your words has never worked

But for just one minute,

Would you stop forcing your shouts through my ear canal?

Because I’m usually just fine

Until my dad screams that he’s

Proud.

Proud.

Proud!

But if he knew who his little angel really was,

He wouldn’t say that so

Loud.

Loud.

Loud!

And I’ve tried to tell him for quite some time,

But he cannot seem to hear me.

Perhaps the faintness of my whisper

Is traveling below his frequency.

A frequency that refuses to broadcast that

Growing up isn’t always prom dresses and graduation caps

Or final exams and scholarships.

No;

I want to steal that microphone and announce that sometimes,

Growing up is blood dripping down delicate wrists

And dinner coming back out the way it goes in.

And growing up has taught me that

My words aren’t like birds’ melodies,

They’re like scratches on a record;

And I hear you barking that the record is a classic.

Somewhere, there’s a sinking ship full of frantically screeching people.

Sometimes I wish I was one of them.

Sometimes I wish I could just shut them up.