My fingers breathe voices

​Yes sometimes I write about me

But I hardly write for me
I write for the silenced
Yes they can talk
They have words
But their voices life has captured and buried
Voices suppressed by pain and torture
My fingers talk on their behalf
They have beautiful souls
But life treats them like they are futile
Nobody cares how they feel
Every word I write
Is another sound from the ground
My fingers breathe voices
Voices surpressed by pain and torture
Every day you will find me rock bottom
Down on my knees
Digging the ground like a miner
I dig for gold
A gold that was called a coal
And deprived the chance to glitter
The broken that cry every night
But their voices never make it to the light
Their weeping, no one hears
I write for the silenced
My fingers breathe voices
Sharon Mo ©