All I do is listen, and I’m not sure why.
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The Listener
by Glorious Owens
All I do is listen
To the screams and shouts of the people I should care about most
But never feel sympathy towards.
All I do is listen
To people judging me for the way I dress.
“Why you always gotta dress like a boy?”
Or the things I do.
“Make sure you graduate and don’t be a f— up.”
All I do is listen
Never speak up for myself.
What’s the point?
Arguing only leads to louder arguing.
I’d rather use my fists.
What’s the point in talking when no one is willing to listen?
They speak but never hear my words.
They judge, yet they haven’t amounted to all that much.
But who am I to talk, right?
All I do is listen
To a mom who is never satisfied until I’ve broken down
To a sister who announces that she is grown but can barely pay her bills
To a dad who always needs too know “why this?” “why that?”
To a brother who isn’t around to hear the drama.
How happy he must be to have escaped the endless criticisms.
My head pounds,
Yet all I do is listen,
Absorbing all the negativity.
I wonder what the reasons are behind these hurtful words
Making a point?
Needing to be right?
The empty apology after seeing the pain that’s been inflicted?
But all I do is listen
And I’m not sure why.
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