3. Couldn’t Be Quieted
INTRO
Mom and dad always said —
"She cried too much. She could not be quieted."
Like I was a broken machine, not a child with a need.
But somewhere along the way, I did go quiet.
VERSE 1
My tears were a problem. They had to fix me.
Momma pinched the back of my arms. Hard. Where no one else would see.
The mark stayed inside. Left a flinch where the light went dark.
They called me dramatic. I just feel everything.
Momma passed the lesson through her fingertips.
Water on my face — I still freeze.
A splash from a story they think is a joke.
My body remembers what my mind forgot.
The quiet they bought didn't last long.
It just went underground and learned to wait.
Aggressive nostalgia. I don't remember when I stopped crying.
They remember the quiet. I remember the pinch.
PRE-CHORUS
Pinch me, I'm sensitive.
Pinch me. Yeah, I'm sensitive.
A quiet time bomb.
CHORUS
They told me: learn to grow a thicker skin. I tried.
They said: the world will eat you alive. It did.
A delicate stillness, thorn in my side —
so I wouldn't break their fragile peace.
I cried and cried — I couldn't be quieted.
I'm still sensitive. I couldn't be quieted.
VERSE 2
Daddy tied me and my brother together —
nose to nose, a belt around our middle.
We had to face each other's silence.
Forced proximity to the one I was fighting.
The logic was a knot I still can't untie.
Timeouts meant nose to the wall. For hours.
The plaster memorized my breath.
I learned to stare at a single speck.
That's how I learned to stay still while everything inside me ran.
I wanted to be held without a reason.
They wanted a daughter who wouldn't feel so much.
I was born with the volume turned up.
They tried to turn it down — pinch, splash, wall, belt.
But the crying was my compass. They thought the quiet was a cure all.
It just moved the ache deeper. They wanted a polite daughter.
They got a ghost in a good dress.
They met my tears with scorn. Now I meet their nostalgia with silence.
PRE-CHORUS
Pinch me, I'm sensitive.
Pinch me. Yeah, I'm sensitive.
A quiet time bomb.
CHORUS
They told me: learn to grow a thicker skin. I tried.
They said: the world will eat you alive. It did.
A delicate stillness, thorn in my side —
so I wouldn't break their fragile peace.
I cried and cried — I couldn't be quieted.
I'm still sensitive. I couldn't be quieted.
BRIDGE
Momma's pinch was sufficient training. The quiet stuck.
My blood rang cold every time she reached for me.
I tried to be what they wanted, but I lost their love anyway.
The quiet bought me time. Then charged interest.
I'm sensitive.
CHORUS
They told me: learn to grow a thicker skin. I tried.
They said: the world will eat you alive. It did.
A delicate stillness, thorn in my side —
so I wouldn't break their fragile peace.
I cried and cried — I couldn't be quieted.
I'm still sensitive. I couldn't be quieted.
OUTRO
They say it's a false memory. Maybe.
Scorn is a quiet violence. It doesn't leave a mark. Just a flinch.
Little sympathy for the little ghost who cried too much.
I'll give it to her myself.
I'm sensitive.
Pinch me — I'm still here. After everything.
I won't be quieted.
