By Elle Gordon, TIWP Student

We have all been censored.
Been told to hush,
or have a trigger warning slapped on us.
We’ve all been told to be quiet when they were the ones who asked.
So I let my words grow old, never to be unmasked.
Words are made to hurt, heal, teach.
But when you are so often told to stop,
how are you supposed to speak?
Instead I will let my words right on this page,
growing bland and meaningless with its age.
This notebook is the only one strong enough to hold,
all the stories that I have told
no one.
Because no one would want to hear, talk to, or see
the uncensored and unfiltered me.
So here my words stay to rest on the page.
Because I have lost trust
they must sit in their cage.
Notebooks and notebooks slam shut ready to fly free,
but society has stolen the key. So we sit in silence ringing.
The faint sound of silenced words singing,
their cry for help.
Because all it would take,
is one ear to listen
but there’s too much at stake.
Those aren’t words they’re emotions to hurt, to teach, to heal.
And it would be too heavy to know how all of us really feel.
The notebook cannot learn or hurt but it has accepted it’s job to hold,
these words that make up stories and hurt and passion,
I have never told.

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