Public Thoughts on Private Matters

I find it hard to say the words that come to mind.

They aren’t mine.

They are the words of a young woman who thinks herself broken, when she’s just bruised.

They are the ideas of a woman who’s true beauty rests beside the place where she feels changed; effected, by what someone else said and defined her to be one day, at the end of it.

Stronger, I find myself, than what she wants to express. 

I’m stronger because I know what she doesn’t and what the one(s) who swayed her own image of herself do not.

I know that those opened mouths and blackened hearts speak less of her because they feel less of themselves; never admitting, never forgiving, never seeking to be redeemed ‘cause they are filled with false pride .

But false pride and presentation only reigns until the truth comes out.

Then the fraud is never trusted, even when the truth is finally mustered and they show who they really are. Even when obviously a star, no one will wish a single good word upon them.

So… she can’t be allowed to speak. Because she doesn’t speak the truth, she’d speak their lie.

She’d speak from a feeling and a time, a mad word and a failed attempt and an incorrect recollection of what happened. 

I know the truth and the power of words.

By no filter of hers would the truth come out… but always by my own. 

I know us entirely and never again will I present myself in part.

And that’s why lately… the words won’t start.

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