The Sound Dictator

I’m sitting here in frustration

trying to avoid any escalation.

I hear the click, tap, sniff, pop,

And I want to abort mission, I want it to stop.

Stop what? You may ask,

Well time of course, where is my mask.

The mask I wear every day

That hides my silent screams and says I’m okay

I can’t leave home without it or I will be exposed

And upon that exposure I will be loathed.

As I am by my friends, minus the S

She hates that I laugh in anger in times of distress.

I mock her as if I’m shaming her, but who am I to be blaming her

I apologize for being me, because of this illness I take a knee

I pray I cry I beg and I plead, that one day my great God will rid me of the

the evil in my head that turns me red

And chases away friends and tears my eyes shed

Life is a sound that I can not control

Misophonia is a tool of torture that keeps me from being whole

A hole that I cant dig my way out of, not this time

Because that hole is in my head, dictating my mind.


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