Voiceless

Unable to speak for ourselves,
Trapped by those before
Using their words,
For a chance to be understood

Yet these very words,
Mask the thoughts behind them
Every word available,
Carries with it a history

Every thought written,
Is tainted by its ancestors
It is not this voice they hear,
But all those before

Sometimes it is tempting to remain silent,
Lest they hear the wrong voice 

-megazone, feeling very, very tired and alone in a crowd, 12/5/92