Malpractice

If I screamed until my throat were raw,

would you finally listen?

Would you just wait for me to quiet,

to suck up all the air in the room to just speak over me?

I am layered in your assumptions,

and it’s getting too heavy to carry.

Im not your little wooden puppet,

my nose isn’t growing with lies.

Yet you set me on fire every time I see you,

and still my truths splinter free.

Tiny pieces of my reality I build up time and time again,

consistency is key they say after all.

Does that work for doctors too?

I’m beyond a broken record,

I’m becoming trilingual in hopes you may understand me with each new language.

I could finger spell it out for you,

because I’m so tired of screaming at some form of yourself you’ve set in stone.