I find myself in that dark abyss Cruel, malefic, and conscious I know not what I'm writing The purpose or the reason There's no escape route visible Clamouring for breath Screams muffled into whimpers My head hurts— A lot Oh it hurts, it hurts, it hurts I haven't seen love If it's meant to be seen I haven't felt love If it's meant to be felt I haven't tasted love If it's meant to be tasted What is love? I heard, the first glimpse into this rare jewel Is given by the primary caregivers I know not who they are Are they those two bodies— The ones screaming behind the screen The air heavy with a charge That doesn't feel positive Is this love? Then I have ample I see them while I play with Jojo and Mojo It's always those dramatic flailing of arms The crude expressions- theatrical They call me expressive Probably got it from my mother They call my articulation grave Probably got it from my father They see me debating on stage Say I have it in me- a gif...
They say I am good at speaking-
a prolific orator,
an intelligent debater,
a skilled narrator.
But why do I-
fail to articulate emotions,
as simple as a lamb?
why must they coil up in a maze,
so the phrases lose their way;
Liberated from the labyrinth too late.
Why do I,
stumble, stutter, sigh;
can’t communicate in fluent currents-
like a river or pour heavy like rain?
Why do I-
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