What happens when you feel as if no one will listen, trapped between a rock and place that's no longer existing?
To feel as if you're capable of creating a simplified deposition, only to fall back within a maze of complicated misinterpretations.
Listen. My voice is buried within a multitude of sound. Screaming and warring, reaching for a plateau of higher ground. There is no meeting place for such contradiction where suffering abounds. I am the catalyst beneath the anchor of refuge which is found.
Do not underestimate my pain for your glory. Because of my strength you mistake my courage for a pre-written story. I am not an example of a casualty of a misused minority. My pain will never justify your reason to re-write history.
Listen to me. My tears have fallen but you never see. You take for granted my strength will camouflage a disguised analogy. Of the way you see me. You will never comprehend the magnitude of my testimony. Still ridiculed and shunned because of the threat I pose to society.
But you don't hear me. A silent implosion that is waiting to become what will be necessary.
Do not mistake my strength for invincibility. A crack appears on my heart each time there is no substance to withstand the durability. There is no substitute for the pain that comes when you refuse to hear me.
I have only one request. Please....
Listen to me.
Copyright @ Andrea Johnson