Wilted Words

I was a quiet child, but I had a beautiful singing voice, Or so I believed. My voice was soft, and my words were shy like a five years old kid hiding behind her mother and clutching her elbow at first day of school, I couldn't hit high notes and my vocal range had limitations but that never stopped me, At least I had rhythm and I memorised lyrics easily, I grew up, and voice submerged beneath all the insecurities, I am more quiet and I no longer believe that my voice is beautiful, And my words, My words almost never mean what I want to say, They are deceiving, Every time I speak they promise that this time they're going to come out exactly as I mean them but they don't, They throw me under the big yellow bus, They cluster in my throat and push other words out, They ring the doorbell and run fast and I get caught, They never call for truce, So I decided to become silent, I nod yes, I shake my head no, I say the bare minimum to communicate, When the waiters...

The world blurs and melts, indicating the start of the ending, the world falls into mass chaos, after slowly dripping into an oozy thick black deliquescent substance, slipping through my own fingers, liquid suffering covering my hands, guilt..  for all the things I am feeling, for all the things I am not, for all the skeletons hanged in my closet, for all the hostages of secrets, terrified and loud in spite of how many times I stifle their noises. for all the dead thoughts, stagnant and sordid in spite of being buried miles within me. I have got miles and miles of skin, but it's transparent windopane, and there is no point of hiding that circus of crazed mess, it's on full display.  it's my shadow of an entourage, it's everything I am, it's everything I am not. it's the things I fear, it's my  loneliness  solitude, I am losing my mind in this murky place, I am on my way I am lost.  with no destination, no direction, I am being devoured by...