If I could explain in spoken words,
I would never need to write—
but I can’t.
These thoughts are not normal;
they are spokeless words,
shapes that form in silence,
clouding my mind like a storm,
like the air just before rain.
Then suddenly they pour—
seamless, fast—
as if something had been blocking them all along.
Like a cylinder long filled,
yet never given air to breathe,
until, at last,
it breathed.