Sometimes it’s hard for me to speak.
The words’re caught in my throat.
It seems my mouth needs a little tweak
to get back on the right road.
But even when the words are proper;
my voice is still quite small…
I’m treated like a silly pauper
and I’m never heard at all.
The people all around me shout.
They’re laughing; having fun.
And all I do is sit; left out
and wait until they’re done.
But even when I have my chance,
and they finish their little game…
I stand so stiff while they all dance…
And I’m quiet all the same.
I look upon the stars each night
and wish for just one thing.
I want to turn this poem I write
into a voice, my everything.
And one day I do know I will
stand and speak these words.
But for these little moments still,
I’m silent like youngling birds.