The Mute

My friend Samuel is a mute.
He's never spoken a word in his life,
though I'm sure not from a lack of trying.
Something is wrong with his vocal chords,
I guess.
I don't really know.
I've never understood his explanation,
to be honest.

I sometimes wonder if he's lying.
If he just never had the desire to talk.
It's insensitive to think—maybe—but seems
a real enough reason to me.
I feel that way sometimes;
the world gets confusing,
and I'm supposed to have answers.
I just want to shut it down for a while,
you know?
Take myself out of the picture;
if only in the small victory of
not speaking.

Maybe I just think too much;
people always tell me to relax.
They say it's not all supposed to
make sense,
or that it takes time.
Well I think they're full of shit.
what a cop-out of an answer,
accepting ignorance is.
You can put off learning forever,
but you can only ever choose
to learn something
right 'now'.
That's how I see it at least.

I don't know, maybe I'm wrong.
Maybe I really am supposed to just...
lay back.
Take the world as it comes.
Maybe the only thing that keeps my mouth running is the insistance on being heard...