There are certain things I have been told
That I am not supposed to say
Because I am supposed to be nice.
"Supposed to" being the operative couple of words here.
I have found myself tongue-tied,
Knotting into the stomach,
Tripping over my words,
Stumbling over my feet,
Unsure of my direction in the first place.
Inside a foggy head
and outside my blurry eyes
Trying in vain to find my way in the mist.
If only the veil were removed from my being,
Then the truth would be revealed.
Blunt, even hurtful at times, is honesty.
But alas, it is not so...at least not in my reality.
I've been scorned at and told.
"We don't talk about such things here."
Upturned noses and ignorant minds.
My own words are thrown back at me like deadly daggers,
and I am blind-sided by such one-sidedness.
With my hand on the Holy Bible,
I would swear in front of the judge and whole jury
That dare I speak the truth of the things on my mind,
Many would not think I am nice.
Then, those suppositions would be proven false,
for the lies that they are,
and I, for once, would be listened to, and not just
half-heard.
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