I would like to mend and bend my words to the vastness of a certain height to make someone realize that I love to hear myself talk a lot.

So I speak

I say dumb things

I say smart things

Sometimes I’m funny

Most times I’m mean

But I speak

To not forget that my voice may belong to 1,000’s of other people
But it’s my turn to say what I’ve spoken or will speak

My turn to say what I need with this voice

Though I do not like it at most times,

It’s with me

But I’m not stuck with it

Because I can choose when to use my voice or when I don’t want to

And just because I don’t like my voice at most times because I can’t sing,

I do like some of the ideas that come out of it when it’s good and beneficial to me

 

I give out speeches in my head to an empty audience as if though people were actually listening to me

I preach out my ideas and theories on why one answer is only good for one person but terrible for another

These talks tear my mind apart because there is never one clear result to the price of the cost of living

And that if I start to speak too much for one subject,

Eventually my ideas will be cut off by another

That suddenly what I say doesn’t matter to anyone including myself

My idea’s suddenly become a blank canvas when i'm interrupted by something of more convenience

 

My spoken words are the ideas that I’ve relished or regretted in the so very few years of my life leading up to now

Even though my teacher said that by the time you get from the N to the W in the word “Now,”

a millisecond would have passed by so this current second is just another tiny part of a second going away

I learned to use that millisecond to speak