Weights in the shape of hearts pin me to the marble floor
Lives at stake, and I cannot articulate one syllable.
A child screaming as their skin melts off their bodies, but I cannot form a word to stop it.
A prying sing-songy voice whispers that words won't help
and voices only belong to the strong
but I don't buy it.
I drag my heaving body from underneath the stones of silence
tongue tied and removed
and find solace in the blessing of sight
and the universes of literacy.
A sword lies waiting for me by the stairs.
Well balanced between my first finger and the pad of my thumb
I lie awake
in a place where words reach the other's ear
where the recipient finally understands
and my voice pierces their brain so aggressively
that if words could kill
they would break knees and cripple pride
forcing the victim
no the attacker
to put down their guns, and weep with remorse
to finally find the love within the truth
told by a girl who's tongue was sliced short
by the forefingers and pads of thumbs of the people whom she trusted to get close enough to her mouth.