They like to say,
Just speak.

Speech is free,
Speech is your right,
You have something to say,
Then just speak.

Just speak
Your mind.
Just speak
Your heart and soul.
Just speak.

And yet, I don't,
I pick my words
Like I pick ripe mangoes
Under a full mango tree.

I weigh their merit
Ensuring that the ones
I choose express
My intent without causing harm.

You see my words
Tend to be lewd,
Suggestive, mean,
Unintentionally harmful.

So I let silence reign,
Taking my time to say
What I really want to say,
But do I really?

Do I pad my words
So that they bounce off
The skins of the thin skinned?

A gentle breeze
On the gossamer wings
Of a newly freed butterfly?

Or do they lightly brush
Against the scarred, weathered
Skin of those who
Could care less.

Why do I care?
Why do I cuddle
And protect the sensibilities
Of my listeners?

Why do I spend time
Construction a great production
Of nouns, verbs, adverbs
And adjectives to ensure
That my listeners' perception
Of me is favourable?

Favourable instead of real,
Favourable instead of unique,
Favourable instead of.....
Letting them make up
Their own minds on what
They think of me.

And what they think of me
Does not determine what
I think of me.

So from this point forward
I will just speak.


Submitted to Poetry Pantry