When you grow up believing

that nice is the way to go,

you forget that emotions,

and thoughts

are a better way to soar. 

You sit and you stare,

mute and aware,

quiet and observant.

Never getting too close

or sharing too much.

Biting your tongue

you never learned how to speak.

Biting your tongue, 

you'll never learn how to be. 

"How kind you are,

how sweet."

"How quiet you are,

we see." 

And suddenly it's you, 

sat way in the dark. 

Alone with your thoughts, 

all jumbled - they talk. 

"It's too late," they all say

"to be someone you're not."

But it's me, and my life-

there's no reason to rot. 

You sit in the dark, 

breaths shallow and weak. 

Tell me, 

who can I be-

If i've never learnt to speak?