Through tangled thoughts festering about,

I am able to create something without doubt

Of what others may think of my mangled mind

Because of what I write is what I feel on the inside.


Through appropriately arranged alliteration

I am able to demonstrate the desirable dictation

Of the sounds suspended through sealed lips

Because I’m terrified I will trip.


Words take a detour through my fingers instead of my voice.

Sure it may be longer, but at least I have the choice

To calm down and think before I speak instead of talking on the spot,

Because when people catch me off guard, I feel like I am shot.


Though I feel like I never really get what I want across,

At least I can peel away at some of the gloss

That builds up in my mind by making me blind

To the life I have that makes me want to hide.

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