The Voice Poem by Francie Lynch
The Voice
Small voices
Are muted by buds
Pounding the bass.
Like a headache,
Blurring,
Not wrong,
And jarring the song.
Bullies are wired,
The me's get hired
Carrying small compassion.
That Voice
Has no auditions;
We are type cast
In roles of contrition.
Don't slur,
Be demure,
Have patience
To hear
Your voice
To conclusion.
Join the dance,
Be resolute.
Hear the voice
With repute.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
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4/16/2024 5:12:07 PM # 1.0.0.1119
