The Unborn Communication

God why can’t I talk fluently to others?

My words become indistinct, just fragments

In my head their fervour cause a shutter

An impact captivating like a comet

 

“You just spit it out, make conversation”

I could relax and love this existence

But it’s hard when doubt is your pollution

O If past thoughts were now in present tense

 

I have no genuine relationships

When I listen I fear their eyes on me

And when I speak my senses are tipped

I feel the sweat, I wish it was a sea

 

I want to be lost, I want to belong

For a raconteur like me, there’s no song

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741