I’m branded with confusion as to why

why have people been mistaking
my siren calls as broken barriers
that turn communication into a paper
shredder for my

heart that drips crimson. 
the sentences you’ve read quickly
are the ones that have

dove from my mouth
without a second thought.
when I reach with

these shaking hands, i am
only asking for a

hand to help me up.
why have these calls

for your motherly
arms turned into unkindness
in the words of your own mind.
in despair, in these cries
my actions are only

road maps to what i mean to say
to what my lips are too afraid to voice.