THE CLOSET MYSTIC

yeah, yeah, yeah,

silent on the home front,

the familial mute.

My journal had ears,

you all just had mouths.

Ask me what’s wrong

then talk over me–

I tell you what’s wrong

you tell me 

why I’m wrong.

The quiet one;

I learned speaking

and not speaking,

they were the same,

I’d be just as heard 

either way.

Or maybe 

you all had such thick armor 

I had to throw a dagger to be known.

but I never wanted to join the war,

never wanted to join the war.