Butterfly

A Poem by PencilinMyHair

I've been trying to write this poem for a while, and it suddenly all clicked. It was a difficult poem to write, but I'm glad I did it.

I’m blistering and burning
twisting and turning
crippled, crumpling inside
I turn inwards to confide

I want to sing and laugh and whisper
but like playing a game of twister
I fall
Because it is from aids that I can hear at all

Without them, I am surrounded by walls
a mile high and suffocating and I want to bawl
I’m grateful for what I have and use
for I can hear the birds and muse

I even play the cello for music is my heart
I take to it like a duck on water but it is a difficult art
I’m not tone-deaf but I can’t quite get it
It is galling but occasionally time and practice permits

When it gets too much and I ask why
I cry
For all I want to do sometimes is get out there and sing
because when I let go I let my voice take wings

It must seem strange to you,
a deaf person who wants to sing and I rue
it is sometimes strange to me as well
But through my aids it seems as though I weave a spell

So even though there are walls so high

I'll try
I'm so scared of dropping the tune
But you only live one so I'll sing to the moon