My lips move, but you don’t hear;
I strain my voice but you don’t know
just what I’m trying to say

I look at you –
You speak to me – and what you say, I hear.
I understand – but disagree.

I try to speak, but you place
a finger on my lips

My lips remain closed
but my mind churns on in a depressing cycle
of unexpressed opinions

 

 

 

 

 

Written when I was in the Sixth Form in the Victoria Institution and published in the 75th Anniversary edition of the School’s yearbook “The Victorian” in November, 1968, p.182. http://www.viweb.freehosting.net/vilit_vic1968b.htm