I pushed my voice above the clatter

I pushed my voice above the clatter,

told myself I had the right.

Though every word began to shatter,

I held on tight, refusing light.

Their eyes fell tired, disappointed—

a silence thick with steady weight.

I kept on, stubborn, disjointed,

a wrong song, out of state.

The heat pooled dry behind my eyes,

a flood that would not cool down.

Knowing wrong but still I rise—

proud and bruised, wrong and loud.