This is another poem from the collection I rediscovered yesterday. I wrote it as a teen. I am publishing it here without any editing. I have learned so much about poetry (including when to use capitalization and rhyme), but one thing is very clear--I have always known myself even when I wasn't paying attention. More on that another time.
The Scream
How shrill my scream turned out to be
When meant a whispered word
But hidden pain inside my heart
Instead, was what they heard.
They did not hear my meaning
Or see the smile on my face
But rather saw me screaming
Heard the fear my voice misplaced.
So, if I cry, forgive me
I’ve been misunderstood.
And if I run, don’t follow
Just leave me as I would.
Please don’t ask me questions,
I’d rather be alone
As shaken as I may seem
I’m just heading home.
And though you think me strange
Tired is more the word
Yes, I promise, no more whispers
So more screams will not be heard.
image from pixabay.com