Thoughts in my head,
Banging around – Thud. Thud. Thud.

They’re difficult to express,
Stories that are being repressed,
Stuck with me,
And they are forever mine.

Though I know that everyone could love them,
I know that these words in writing,
Will just never be all that exciting;
Maybe I’m disabled,
Or maybe they’re just not right.

Whatever the case, I struggle every day,
With these stories in my head,
They’re meant to be said,
To be loved and to be told,
But I don’t think I’ll ever be just that bold.
So as the characters grow more complex,
I try to write down something,
Anything to sort out the mess;
But I tend to hate it all the next day,
“This isn’t right! This isn’t at all what I meant to say!”

As time goes by, I think it may get easier,
If I begin practicing or being less disapproving,
Then as I grow, my vocabulary and fluency may start improving.

I’m sorry world; I’m still in debate,
With just how long you’ll have to wait.