Speak

It seems like I always know what to say till I have to say something. Words are constantly in my lungs, seeping through my teeth, and trickling off my tongue. The wit and charm seem to come so easy. It's as if my voice was born to dance to open ears and eager minds. The sad: they come for happiness The happiness: they come for encouragement. These words are calm, collected, concise. Talking, that's easy; it's speaking that I find impossible. There is so much weight behind spoken words; they could tear apart or mend a soul. Confirm the inevitable or deny the lies. My thoughts are blank my lungs are aspirated my teeth are dammed and my tongue is dry. It's so simple, so logical. My words were born to dance! but now they can't seem to keep a beat It's time to face the reality of it all. It's now the time to speak.