Its Torture. The cruel painless kind. Torture, like watching her from the shadows as she Loves her new Lover while you're still so alone. Within my mind Ive said a word then spelled out in ryhm. It sounds so perfect within my mind,my quivering lips mouth the word in silence. Im afraid to try, listen to my struggle and you shall see why it is I hardly speak. Its the stammer, the god given gift which has held my opinions hostage. Prevented me from approaching her and telling her what she secretly longed to hear. Forced me at times to remain silent when there was so much more I had to say. This stammer provides cruel children reason enough to be even crueler. I speak around certain words and communicate more with the hands. Kind souls finish sentences for me as I fight for my voice. Never knowing that their attempt at being helpful only drives this silent knife even deeper. This Stammer has barricaded what I need to say somewhere within that dead and maimed space between my mind and my speach. I'm tunneling my way out of this self contained prison. Word by written word . Im slowly finding a way for this silent and crippled voice to finally be heard.