i am an quiet.
with too many thoughts to say,
but no way to say it.
the stutter gets in my way,
followed by a cough, clearing of the throat,
then silence in the air.

i want to speak up,
but my words are heavy,
heavy with a burden of being right,
of being interesting (which i am not).
 

my words leave me choked up,
and kill me slowly as i try,
and try and try,
to claw my way out from the inside.
my lungs are black with the tar
of a promise for freedom and friendship.

i want to be heard,
by someone, anyone,
but i am trapped in a cage,
built by the stitches of my veins
and the bars of my bones.

i am introverted,
tethered by loneliness.

speak up, i'd say.
i can't, i would reply.
(you lost.)