Inside of me there is
a constant struggle,
the recognition of
my own voice.
Thoughts,
when they arise
focusing mostly in
negatives,
leading me into
passivity, into
the giving-up-ness,
force feelings beyond
my control.
They tell I can't,
or won't,
or shouldn't.
Then go and find
proof of their
righteousness.
I like to see the lack
of voice as my own voice.
Not because I've
nothing to say, but
because what I've
got to say can be
said without one noise.
Even when
the thoughts that come
are to be cherished,
it's not me the source.
Thoughts are
not mine to hold
onto and identify as.
I'm their witness.
