I wish that all was written down
so I shouldn’t have to speak.
My voice, it taints, makes words impure -
they cannot breathe up here,
they choke my throat like cancer meat,
fall dead, upon the air.
Too long my words have been ignored,
I shall be mute from spite.
‘Til granted voice to shake the earth
I shall not speak aloud -
my pen will make a silent sword
and strike without a sound.
I’ll walk as one whom without tongue
does press his words to page.
My silence, kingly as a crown,
a’stud with muted gems -
these words are far too strong for sound
my pen will tame them.