Gisele Paterson

I Speak A Different Language

I speak a different language,
standing on a different stage.

Being in a crowd,
I never speak out loud.

Beneath the stars, walking home,
never felt so alone.

The familiar breeze blows,
the river flows.

Gazing at my front door,
I've never felt so sore.

I spun around,
sprinted off without a sound.

The tears in my eyes,
representing the many lies.

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Poem Submitted: Friday, March 30, 2007
Poem Edited: Wednesday, February 9, 2011

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