In truth I do not know what I should say.
My lack of prosody has found me out
And now I shall go hide or run away
From facing up to it.
                                   And yet I stay
To torment myself with dark thoughts about
My inability to have my say.
My lips are stuck, my mouth is choking on
My tongue.
                     I will not yield.
                                               I cannot face
The pain of knowing that my touch infects
All with decaying love and marks them for
The dark dog Depression.
                                            Killing all beauty
And previous wonder found in life.
I hurt, I ****, I maim, I destroy the
Beauty of words.