Sometimes all I want
is to speak,
to let out the heaps
of thoughts
piled inside me
throughout my existence.
But when I open my lips to do so,
somehow all the words betray me.
Like your very own cells
turn against you,
your already weakened immunity.

So I resign
and transfer my trash
on paper instead.
Because the scribbled lines
on a tear smudged paper
make much more sense
than the unuttured hertz of words
floating aimlessly in the air.

// shy people aren’t mute //