All I ask for
Is an ear.
I write because I want to be heard.
No, I beg to be listened to.
See, life isn't something that you can just go through
Alone, without anybody else.
You can't just go for a year
keeping your thoughts, dreams and aspirations close to here,
Never letting them find a listening ear.
Your ambitions are like birds caged up too tight,
They long to fly by day or night!
You can't shut them up and
Not expect to say goodbye
To your happiness;
To your comfort;
To your sanity.
So, I want to be heard.
Not simply read by eyes
That appraise my diction and
Grammatical partitions of speech
My visual lingo,
The way I dress,
Or the way I write, (I do hope to impress)
But how can ink on the paper you see
Or teensy pixels on bright blue screens
Really make you know what I mean?
The spoken word is how I express myself.
Written is fine, don't get me wrong,
But words become just so much more alive
When they are said in just the right tambre
In exactly the correct manner originally envisioned.
To share precisely what is meant.
To me, that is spoken word.
But the most important word there is to share.
Because words need listeners
Poems need readers
And I don't care who, but
If only a single person on this earth hears these words,
I'll be fine.
I'll know I've at least been heard.
Because I can't spend even a single day alone with my thoughts
All by myself—they'd rip me to shreds.
I guess our strongest critic and finder of faults is
Living right here in our heads.
We're all in a cage about half an inch thickness
Of milky white bone crania surrounding our intelligences
So I can't be picky about the medium I guess,
Written, spoken, whatever,
But, my thoughts want out!
They can't stay in here forever,
Vanishing before they make their mark
On the outside world.
Our brains are the least positive of workspaces,
Without a doubt, I've observed.
My thoughts are planning a jailbreak together,
But they don't need a ladder made of bedsheets,
They need a ladder of listeners.
So I want to be heard.
By anybody, out there!
Because life is not a journey meant be taken alone,
Because life was meant to be shared;
Thoughts were meant to be shared;
Poems were meant to be shared.
So all I ask for
Is an ear.