I am here. I exist. I am not black, nor am I white. I look at myself, and I notice I am not tanned or yellow either. I do not speak with an accent. In fact, I don’t speak at all.
I am here. I exist. I lay in silence, yet I am heard through the rhythm of my constant beats. Even though everyone chooses to ignore my being, I still fight to be heard. To be understood. To exist in the lives of those who need me.
I am here. I exist. I am poor. I am neglected. I wear rags and beg for my riches again. I beg for the walls that have been built around me to be broken down. I plead so loudly that sometimes my screams cause me pain. I need to be felt again. I need to feel again.
I am here. I exist. I am slowly fading away. I am falling into the deep sleep of eternity. I look at my host, but all I see through my iron bars is someone I do not recognize anymore. The armor still lays on me within him. The feelings have turned ice cold, and he’s become just as lonely as I had always been before. He allows not a whisper from me. I beat still, but for no good reason. I have been forgotten. I have been shattered. A mere, faded, memory of buried feelings and burned pictures of a broken dream.
I am here. I exist. I no longer beat. I have given into my despair, as my host lay to sleep in the comfortable arms of the beautiful earth. I remain still, but now his rhythm could not keep my music alive enough to keep him going through life. I have been “within and without” in a host I held dear to me, but who never held me close enough to feel.
I was here. I exist still. I may have been the heart-the breath of his life- once, but no more.