I don’t want my words
Turning into streams of mud,
Drowning ears and tongue of mine,
Suffocating helpless mind.

I don’t want my thoughts
To be heavier than the mountains,
Strangling me with piercing chain,
Leaving as an empty shell.

I don’t want to feel this pain
Of every moment being afraid,
Worrying if I’m good enough,
Trying match “the proper” ones.

I don’t want to be alone,
Share my smile with empty wall,
While we all are so the same,
yet afraid of others’ shade.

Will you ever stop and grab,
Hand, I always keep reached out?
Or should I rather sit with note:
“Join me, please, if you want to talk”?