Poems

Words.

Words, spoken words to be exact,

Have always been my greatest downfall;

All specificity lost in my muddled train

Straining to chug down the hall

Of decorum and social etiquette

That I just do not possess.

I have grown to fear the world around me so much

That even to write this, I confess

I deliberated and considered

If this long introduction should even exist.

Then I remembered that I used to hoard poems,

Over-spilling and dripping stains down my to-do lists. 

So I shall be fearless and declare

That words are elusive and expressions are unfamiliar;

I refuse to continue to be frightened of the world,

Hiding behind awkward smiles and silent tears.

Unlike the protagonists in my favourite stories,

Being awkward and odd is not celebrated—

It is condemned by the silent whisper

By the feared and the ultimately hated

Few that we do not speak of,

So we live in this limbo of flashbacks and cringing,

This constant rewind of torturous memories

Jumping out from their hibernation in hiding.

I am a mass of mixed up words

And floundering sentences mixed with a salad bowl,

Self-conciousness seeping through the cracks forming

Where fear strikes the most, eroding some deep dark hole

That goes on endlessly and makes me wonder

If I can really be brave one day and speak

Words of weight and whimsical woes,

Bright colours of violet purple and bluish teak.

If I can figure out the words in my mind

To translate them into tangible sound

Maybe I can start working on my other headaches

Like my expression, my weight, my awkward frown.

But sadly, until I am able to release the words

Trapped inside my being, locked by thoughts

I am left struggling to keep my head above the flood

And hold my insignificant place in court.