Actually I don’t

If  I could speak what would I say
What words would make amends
Non-vibrating vocal chords
No major opera originates
A minor scale squeaked out
Sandwiched between a smile
Mind rent in two
One half nice, one half not
If I would speak what could I say
What words would speak my truth
Perhaps I need to reframe
If I could sing what would I sing
If I would sing what could I sing
I’d sing my pain
In bass I’d sing its depth
Thought torn in three
Would I, could I and need I?
Perhaps I need to reframe
What does it matter?
For nothing will mend what isn’t there
What isn’t, wasn’t there
A shaky foundation built in silence
And pain?
A self-indulgent pass time
There is no need
To speak, to mend
No need
To sing of pain
What was, was
And has become what is
Would I go back
To what was?
Would that atone
For whom I am?
Does who I am
Need to be atoned
Unatoned and free to be
Disinterested in your opinion
Detached, why should I care?
Actually I don’t

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