Score |
2
Conference Assistant and Event Hostess @ Bingham University
Maybe if I was pretty… they would have listened
<p>I am learning</p><p>that some voices don’t echo…</p><p>they evaporate.</p><p><br/></p><p>Mine doesn’t shout.</p><p>It seeps.</p><p>Quiet…</p><p>like blood through fabric no one bothers to check.</p><p><br/></p><p>I have spoken</p><p>with my chest open,</p><p>ribs parted like broken gates,</p><p>heart laid out…</p><p>raw, red, and honest.</p><p><br/></p><p>Still,</p><p>nothing moved.</p><p>nobody flinched.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I tried again.</p><p><br/></p><p>This time, gentler.</p><p>Like placing a blade on skin</p><p>and asking permission</p><p>before it sinks in.</p><p><br/></p><p>But the truth doesn’t beg.</p><p>And people don’t listen</p><p>when it isn’t beautiful.</p><p><br/></p><p>But I’ve seen it happen…</p><p>the same sentence,</p><p>dressed in a prettier face,</p><p>suddenly becomes sacred.</p><p><br/></p><p>Quoted. Repeated. Respected.</p><p>Received. Remembered.</p><p><br/></p><p>As if truth itself</p><p>needed beauty</p><p>to be believed.</p><p> </p><p>And I stood there,</p><p>still bleeding,</p><p>wondering how something so loud inside me</p><p>could sound so small outside of me.</p><p><br/></p><p>Maybe my voice wasn’t the problem.</p><p>Maybe it just didn’t match a face</p><p>worth pausing for.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because I have said things</p><p>that should have shaken rooms,</p><p>but instead</p><p>they settled like dust.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I started swallowing them.</p><p><br/></p><p>Letting them sit in my throat</p><p>like unspilled blood,</p><p>thick, metallic,</p><p>heavy with things I’ll never get to prove.</p><p><br/></p><p>Because what’s the point of speaking</p><p>if your truth has to fight</p><p>just to be heard?</p><p><br/></p><p>And I can feel them sometimes,</p><p>decaying quietly in me,</p><p>turning into something heavier than silence.</p><p><br/></p><p>I think that’s what scares me most.</p><p><br/></p><p>Not being unheard…</p><p>but being replaced.</p><p><br/></p><p>Watching my truth</p><p>wear someone else’s face</p><p>and finally be loved.</p><p><br/></p><p>Maybe it was never that my voice was too quiet…</p><p>maybe it just wasn’t pretty enough to keep alive.</p><p><br/></p>
Maybe if I was pretty… they would have listened
By
Blushtales
Blushtales
0:00 /
0:00
|
2
Other insights from Blushtales
Referral Earning
Points-to-Coupons
Insights for you.
RECOVERING FROM A “GHOST”
Our generation is weird. Almost everyone I know has been ghosted at least once in their...
3160 views
19 upvotes
11 comments
Social media (in)tolerance?
I would like to believe that social media was created to bolster and improve communicat...
1972 views
10 upvotes
7 comments
LET'S TALK ABOUT FAKE FRIENDS
Quite often, we see post from contacts on our social media, about fake friends. Friends...
1476 views
9 upvotes
14 comments
MORALITY VS OUR LOVED ONES
It is no news that social media and maybe even the country is buzzing with the story of...
1411 views
5 upvotes
8 comments
What is the way forward?
“Any names yet? My nephew is from that school!”, cried a devastated aunt after getting ...
1395 views
10 upvotes
9 comments
Comments