The Word Thief

I'm not words with good take another stab at it I gasp Gripping onto each utterance breaking down each sound tripping verbally swelling internally, till I can't breath the pressure is crushing me lying in the dirt i think, 'pick yourself up Mikela; Don't lie there in defeat' I'm conscious yet in a fog eyes blurry, mind weary I wait for a helping hand, knowing it wont come choking sick to my stomach I try again "Hi, my name is Mikela; What's yours?"