Violence at home

when I open my mouth,
I want to scream, I want to cry
I want to beg for a life
something I have never tasted,
freedom.
this is a story
of how I lost my tongue
of how words taught themselves
to become like nausea
troubling my stomach,
and never leaving my mouth
counting stars, counting scars
feeding on the lines and remains
the strokes forgot
to carry when exiting my skin.

Victor Oyedele