TRAPPED IN A MIME

This is obviously a play on words. About two people who get together because they are basically outcasts in society. They are drawn to each other due to the common bond of being dealt a blow by forces beyond their control. I suppose this is sort of minimalist writing as the language is pretty straight forward with the emphasis on the story rather than attempting to be overly flowery prose wise.

I cannot talk
I am trapped in a mime
I have to make gestures
all of the time

No one comprehends
what I try to convey
Though it's quite transparent
what I am trying to say

Mom cut out my tongue
when I was only three
Put it in a jar
to keep it mocking me

She said children should
be seen, but never heard
And I never, ever
spoke a single word

People seem to think
I like to entertain
That I should feel much joy
yet I only feel disdain

They point and smile
as if what I do
is somehow important
if they only knew

One afternoon I saw her
watching from afar
Hair like a raven,
on her face a long white scar

Almost like a border
between her opal eyes
The separation of truth
from the shallow lies

She came around to watch me
every solitary day
I became most fond
of her loyal display

From my imagination
adventures I would conjure
Devoting my performance
only to her

The clouds layed heavy
pregnant with rain
Lightning flashing,
but still she came

The sweet wide grin
upon my longing face
No stormy weather
could hope to erase

Our clothes dripping
our bodies cold
I invited her home
I was feeling bold

I knew she had
a story to tell
I would proclaim with certainty
she would tell it well

Her mother tried to drown her
at the tender age of five
Playing possum staying still
was how she survived

A preacher tried to rape her
when she was merely ten
She slit his throat with a switchblade knife
so he'd never be tempted again

Once her father found her
working for a pimp
Tracked him down to a seedy motel
and tore him limb from limb

When she was close to eighteen
mom wants to finish the job
Hired her a hitman
a crackhead named Bob

Stoned to the rafters
wielding a fourty four
Shot himself in the foot
and fell to the floor

He was found in the morning
mostly dead to right
Her father took a baseball bat
and out goes the lights

He was buried in the garden
beneath the apple tree
With all the other bad assassins
he got good company

Her vindictive mother
no longer pose a threat
A discretely severed brake line
another most convenient death

She asked not for forgiveness
nor judgement of her tale
The catharsis of her revelations
expunged the suffocating veil

She saw in me an equal
one that would understand
Sometimes we make choices
because life forces our hands

She wondered about my silence
and shuddered when she knew
The reason why I never speak
why I must do the things I do

One mellow August morning
we closed the curtains to the past
and knitted close together
to forget the memories dark shadows cast