Title Pending Approval.

When can I speak.
Where can I speak.
How can I speak.
These are both question and statement.
Rumblings of spirit and soul,
in cages in cages in cages in cages.
I want to say, I want to say, I want to say something.
And I did.
And I didn’t.
They told me not to.
I listened. Ear in chain, I listened.
Young and obedient was the young brown boy from nowhere on the block.
Young and filled with spirit.
Young and filled with soul.
Young and filled with fear.
A fear that splintered voice, made voice shutter, stutter,
made voice silent.
I asked Padre,
“que puedo decir, what can I say”
Me dijo.
“You can say whatever you want. Estas en American, mijo.”
Lie, his voice told the wind and the wind whispered it to me.
I knew it was a lie. I knew.
When can I speak.
Where can I speak.
How can I speak.
This is both question and statement.
Now, I am lost. And cannot scream.
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