Flooded with fantastic thoughts,

My memory can’t retain them,

my pen cannot complete them.

Fleeting revelations mend my soul,

but my mouth fails to convey them.

frustration

I’m meek,  untrained to speak them.

I have no voice.

I feel more than my sentences,

I ache to pass them on!

But just before I write them down, they’re gone.

mute

Realizations spill into my mind

my heart

my soul

then locked inside.

I speak ridiculously,

flustered

Out loud I hear someone … and it’s me,

poorly portraying me.