Mockingbird cage

My first attempt at slam poetry. Not sure it turned out exactly but I am happy with it nonetheless.

My bones clank like the annoying neighbor down the street who won't stop ringing his bike's bell.

A rush of wind wraps around my throat, it's skeleton bones stealing my air.

How do I say anything when all my mouth drops is stuffing?

Because for 18 years people always spoke for me.

When I was a baby, people liked to imagine what my babling was. Like "Goo Goo Ga Ga" Oh Johnny didn't you hear her say, "How much she likes her favourite auntie?" I mean come on, I was a baby but of course people have to put words to a baby's nonsense.

When I was 3 my mom encouraged me to learn words by filling my mouth with random phrases.

At 6 my kindergarten teacher told me this was how words were read, said, and spelt.

10 came and I was taught that girls are mean and that I should only say what makes people like me. Never mind that I had my own words to speak. 

When 15 rolled around I learned how to write a compelling argument based on textual evidence. When I had to present it, I was relieved. All I had to was say someone else's words. 

17 the chaos swirling through me stuffed my brain with new words. Suicide, worthless, lame, loser, what is your purpose? And it spoke for me because I didn't know how to keep people from knowing something is wrong.

Now at 18 I finally have a chance. A chance to speak my own words except I have no idea how. I am a beautiful mockingbird who has been confined to a small cage it's whole life; unable to spread it's wonderful wings. And I don't want to be in a cage anymore.