Why do I speak out of turn?
Wy does my tongue despise me so?
It shoots out nonsense of which no one must suffer to.
Why do I write poetry for others to hear,
when my own voice is so unsure?
What right to I have to breathe life to these words,
when the courage to speak them is fading,
like the embers in a fireplace.
Why must I spout stupid ideas,
when no one shall ever like them?
Why must my mind be tainted with words that will just disappear into space?
Why am I so helpless?