I wouldn’t say I wasn’t born with a silver spoon,
I believe, regardless, life is always beautiful,
I also wouldn’t say that I am of little to no use,
But communication, they say, is always appreciated.

I would stand there with my mouth and eyes-wide,
Nothing came out but Satan Speech,
Blood rush to the cheeks, feel ears burn, short breath and sweaty palms,
Wild beating of heart,
Body locks-up; Helplessness and hopelessness intensify inside,
What a heart-wrenching experience.

I would rather die in panic than to speak,
As I feel like a pressure of World consumed me,
I would scream at the top of my lungs, and tear my heart out,
Because of the long bottled-up and exploding emotions deep inside.

Here I am on second half of the Journey,
Finally, my distorted speech, has become a thing of the past,
For perseverance has changed course of my life,
I’ve pushed Satan into my dimmest memories—and my life now is never the same.
This cold March evening was long spent collecting all pensive memories one by one,
That came into my life like blessings in disguise, during the first half of the journey.
And it left me for good, but reshaped my life forever.