Something might be wrong with me.
Or rather, my voice.
My VOICE
Sometimes my VOICE is so soft it can't be heard.
Other times my VOICE is so loud my words are slurred.
Fearing that my VOICE grates on people's ears,
I speak so quiet that my VOICE, you can't hear.
I can't VOICE my concerns,
Fearing I'll only disturb.
Cage my VOICE for being too high or low,
Then laugh it off so no one will know
That I hate my VOICE.
Singing or speaking, it's horrible.
Even nails on a chalkboard is a better sound,
I wince whenever I hear my VOICE resound.
You can lie and say I'm wrong,
But no matter what anyone says,
My VOICE will only ever be
A bunch of unpleasant noise.
YOU ARE READING
Piece Me Together; It Won't Make A Picture
PoetryThoughts, feelings, beliefs, opinions. Of each of these, we all have millions, Maybe billions, Not even, we have trillions. Articulate them with words and sounds, Figurative language, Some of us so much so that we're drowned By this small affiliatio...
