another one I found...I know I'm pretty emo

Communication

I might take the lump from my throat and throw it as a stone.

I might cast it upon those who never would have known

its true origins, how it hardened with the words suppressed

by my own still mouth that asks to confess but is inept

to releasing doubts and instead paints them as my eyes.

See their colors, unable to describe my cries

of salt and sighs, quiet in my private hurt,

crumpled as a fallen bird

that can not speak but asks to be placed in your palm;

Not to be held as a spectacle or cooed over in pity, but calm

and quiet, asking you to listen though it might not make sense

hear me from my heart and not as a defense,

Remind me that I am not meant to lay flat and alone.

In my own despair, the voice is there to craft and hone

As my own, to create whatever I decide

To be the messenger of feelings that reside

Within myself and always mind, not never

Because if I do not say what is the better

measure of explaining myself, what I do mean to say

creates something else, an inexplicable anger or fear,

a rough touch upon someone who doesnt know whats clear

of what has happened or my intentions

and wont know without its mention

that there is something else there

in my words, behind their inflections

of my tone and reflections

of life at the moment,

silence continues to condone it.

Don't let me ignore myself or you,

So speak and I will too.