Vishal Dutia

I am not a raconteur, my tongue is tied,
Tales I try to tell turn into troubles to hide,
Trembling and tongue-tied, I try to speak,
But my words come out as a muddled critique.

I find it frustrating, this lack of words,
My thoughts like birds that cannot be heard,
I struggle to find the right sounds to say,
As my mind turns blank like a winter’s day.

My tongue twists and turns, like a tangled vine,
And my stuttering speech sounds like a whine,
But I’ll keep on trying, despite the strife,
To share my stories and bring them to life.

© VishalDutia