My words are clumsy
and heavy as rocks thudding
on top of moist earth.
They're disruptive,
uncomfortable.
The noise of my voice like brass
clattering down a flight of stairs,
injured and dented.
Though underground, the sound
is silky and sleek.
My words falling like tiny pearls,
tap dancing daintily,
spilling smooth across marble,
rolling easily,
steady like pattering rain.