The sound of my own voice

My voice is that of a child, probably of a girl; somewhere in this; or that world; of parallel universe, and parental control;

There are things I'll never know; 

To know what it's like to be loved for myself; Some of my relationships come and go; I've waited for Johnny and Andy; for George and Yolo and Woke up to news of dismemberment of a girl in a trash can;

I wonder what it's like to be in the minority;

Because as I see it; we are the overwhelming majority; Their power is dwindling; and I can only speak for myself;

I can't do very much for myself; but I am fine; I am deaf and vision impaired; and I couldn't hardly climb; the highest mountain; it would be supreme; but I am just fine; I am not a boy; I am a man;  

Much like old man winter; with bruises and scars; I may not be able to climb the highest mountain but I have gone far;

I'm reasonable; And I'm no mystery; I wear my heart on my sleeve, I'm life right in front of you and you can't ignore me. You can count abortions and lovers. You can count and collect the single mothers. You can recall your memory of a time I wouldn't matter. And that doesn't matter to me. You could ignore me. But I won't go away. Just like books and poetry and portraits are being replaced with kindles and blogs and selfies. I won't give up.

This is the sound of my voice. It can be-

Music or a melody; a beat rhyme or spoken. I will not be broken. I am a mute. And when the voice returns to my timber and I will be on a  throne in the heavens next to God alone.I would have spoken the words of the human race. The words of the scripture. The only thing I've ever known to be true. I am not waiting for what you will do. I will be resilient. And know infact I am the victor. Ah, sweet victory!

I can savor in you. That my words reached the highest mountain when I couldn't. My words. The sound of my voice travelled to you.