My throat closes
Every single time
When I want to speak or let myself be heard, I close
I let others speak for me. In whistling tunes I found through the Tube or stories as told by those who live them
I find it is not my time to speak.
For only when I am utmost alone can I even utter a single sigh and still it displeases me of its occurrence
Perhaps voiceless to allow others the space they might need to be themselves. So why am I upset of it
Meek and meager
Never there when you need her
Your silence is louder than a train wreck.
Jan 12, 2020
Jan 12, 2020 at 1:45 PM UTC
My throat closes
Every single time
When I want to speak or let myself be heard, I close
I let others speak for me. In whistling tunes I found through the Tube or stories as told by those who live them
I find it is not my time to speak.
For only when I am utmost alone can I even utter a single sigh and still it displeases me of its occurrence
Perhaps voiceless to allow others the space they might need to be themselves. So why am I upset of it
Meek and meager
Never there when you need her
Your silence is louder than a train wreck.
