Words I Cannot Be.

I can’t sing the words—

there’s a lump in my throat.

I can’t spread the words—

barricades rise in my house,

walls I cannot cross.

I can’t embody the words;

I haven’t been chosen.

Artistry pours into so many,

yet shines on so few.

______

I look outside my window,

at the views on the screen,

and see all the things I struggle to be.

Words I craft, art I create, beauty I affirm,

but they never reflect on me.

_____

I write words

that never leave my mouth,

hoard light

and store in beams—

yet none of it gets noticed.

Layers of words fill me within,

but barely any ears ever hear them.

____

Words so beautiful,

but not me, I fear.