The turns in my throat belie a strength of vocals that had been dormant.
I put it to sleep. Pushing it down because I didn’t want people calling me an attention junkie.
Jokes on me. I drew more attention NOT TRYING than I ever did with my talents.
Now taking compliments is work. Because of me, getting in my own way.
God gave me talents, and I buried them.
But it’s not too late, to crawl through the glass and fog and bring up what I tried to kill.
NObody’s fault but mine. NO circumstance or action was worse than my choice to garotte my own words. My own lips’ dreams and kissing prose. My heart’s tongue wrapping rapturous song and shout.
This little mouse I. This lioness I.
Indeed.
And outdated.
No thank you, and I’m truly sorry.
Ready or not, here I come.
