Throat,
Please open,
I need to let it out,
I can't keep holding back,
I need to express myself,
But you won't let me,
You tighten,
Constraining,
Closing,
Around my feeble words,
That cry from their prison,
To be allowed to show themselves,
But you won't let them,
I choke,
My whole body begins to shake,
And those lyrics that seemed so perfect,
Stop.
.
.
.
I stare,
Into nothing,
Wishing I could speak,
But hoping more that I,
Can begin to sing in key,
But no,
You decide for me,
That my sentiment is not worth sound,
You refuse to permit my right to free speech,
By closing my vocal chords down.
.
.
.
Their eyes stare,
No sympathy,
Critical confusion,
In the end their glares usher me away,
I shuffle back from the microphone,
With an apologetic smile to my pianist,
I turn and leave the stage,
My hands hit the floor,
My head down,
Eyes down,
Tears fall,
Anger builds,
But only at my sorry self.
.
.
.
Failure.
.
.
.
The rest of me was so strong.
.
.
.
But my throat gave away my pain.

Attachment,
A magnetic force,
Snatching away our serenity,
Pulling people closer,
Making a big ball of tranquility,
Of electrically charged group
Of amiable beings.

Amiable,
A quality barely seen,
In a person,
Who doesn't feign,
To be good,
And if you are,
Then you are rare,
A ruby found,
In a millionth moon,
A sweet sound,
In a noisy room,
You are the beauty
That can't be discovered much,
But if found,
You are so delicate,
And if touched,
You won't break but bloom,
Like a touch-me-not.

Break,
Something difficult for you to do,
Except for,
Breaking through,
The chains of difficulties,
Breaking chains,
Soon to become free,
But still we'll be together,
Because we are the branches of the same old tree.

Tree,*
Of friendship,
Gets cut,
When it does, it pains,
But the pain soon shuts,
Our breaking hearts,
From aching in vain,
Because we know,
That some day,
Like an unexpected shower of snow,
We'll meet again, as we say,
We'll meet again,
When we finally grow.