They said “Express yourself! With poetry!”
But all I have to say are evil things.
To scream my anger at a righteous world
That knows that I am wrong, and tells me so.
They tell me what I must do, patiently.
And all I hear is vitriol. It stings
As much to know I misinterpret them
As all their actual anger ought to do.
I hear them saying, “Nothing ends your pain,”
When all they really ask are simple steps.
A kind word here — a sharply said “for shame!”
Each as their kindly meant advice directs.
I know you’re not concerned with how I feel.
But silence hurts. It shouldn’t, but it’s real.