The Forgotten Voice

By Jasper Gentry

Nor here, nor there

I am the forgotten voice.

Feed me insecurities, pain, or suffering,

I'll soak it up, like a dry sponge

and harden into a happy face,

a parent-trophy,

to sit on the shelf case.

Too quiet, too coarse,

I am the forgotten voice.

Evil rages inside, anger, or happiness,

Funny versions of myself, a tidal wave.

Don't worry!

He's a happy chap!

Give him a bone!

All alone, no home,

I am the forgotten voice.

A smile through the sorrow, lonely,

A split-version of Earth.

My phone.

It rings,

I am trying to ring home

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