 Sumit Pratap Singh 

My voice, holding my truth like a prayer.

I bled gently onto the page.

This poem learned my name before you did.

Written in pauses. Spoken in courage.

A soft voice can still be revolutionary
I stopped editing my feelings.

This is my voice—no filters, no apologies.

I am no longer quiet about my becoming.

Watch me choose myself in real time.

I spoke. And I meant it.
I wrote this with a shaking voice and a steady heart.

This poem sounds like me choosing myself.

I finally said the words I used to swallow.

Healing doesn’t whisper. It speaks in my voice.

If this hurts, it’s because it’s honest.