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5d
I am the truth you feel
but can’t explain.
The question you whisper
when no one’s listening.
I am quiet—
until I’m not.
Then I am thunder
with a poet’s tongue.

I am made of mirrors and masks.
I want to be seen—
but not all at once.
Some parts I protect
like holy things.
Some parts I scatter
just to see who notices.

I am love,
laced with warning labels.
I give freely,
but I keep a part of me
tucked away—
because too many people
have called my softness
a weapon
or a weakness.

I am both the ache
and the remedy.
I will hold you in your grief
and still walk away
if you lie.

I speak in stories
because the truth is too sharp raw.
But don’t mistake the wrapping—
the blade is always there.

I want deep.
Always.
Give me your mess, your edge, your quiet panic.
I don’t care how pretty it looks.
I care if it’s real.

I am not easy to hold—
but if you can,
you will never feel more seen.

I am contradiction without apology.
I am fire that won’t beg to be warm.
I am the secret
and the siren.
The open door
and the lock you don’t know how to pick.

I am.
And that’s enough.
Even when it isn’t for them—
it’s enough for me.
Fumbletongue
Written by
Fumbletongue  49/F
(49/F)   
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