Not necessarily beautiful
You can't always apply meaning to things like that
30 minutes listening to the sounds of a home
30 minutes of being ignored
When I had something to say
To figure out
Under pressure
And like a fragile flower in the wrong conditions
My voice died
And 30 minutes of sounds I couldnt quite understand ensued

It shouldn't have to sound beautiful for me to say it
For me to think my feelings are valid
But i cant put a frustrated sob or a tight gut into words very easily
And I cant simply say exactly what things are
It wouldnt have the same effect
The same relatability
The mystery
The same dramatic flair

It's the simplicities I hear when you're not paying me attention
That make my feelings seem like nothing
That make my questions so hard to voice
Why must I feel as if the tone of the room must be perfect
Before I can shine a light on a problem

On the phone
Drawing left handed sketches
Hearing you sing a familiar song as a joke
To no one in particular

It grips me tight
But I try to hide it
Like a parasitic vine grown from what was thought to be mere anxiety wrapping itself around my body
I am ashamed of it
I feel as if I am a monster admitting to a lover that I am cursed
But they are too caught in their dream version of me to truly care about it and the effects it has on me

April is a humiliating joke to me
The rain that supposedly comes to water the flowers
Is better represented by the amount of tears shed this month

I think too many people punish others for their words
Without thinking about why they were said