I lift my hand to my head and feel nothing,
I thump once or twice and hear nothing,
Nothing I feel but the cold of my hand,
Nothing I hear but the sound of my head,
Thinking or thoughtless there's nothing to show,
Inner thoughts or feelings we may never know,
We have hearts to show that we have life,
But nothing to hear to know of our strife,
Yet we have a voice to have a say in the matter,
To display if our life is stable or in tatters,
My voice shakes as I speak for I know I breathe these words,
And they change me physically, mentally, and emotionally,
Emotion is mental yet mental emotion,
Is not displayed quite as physical is,
It's what makes my voice shake as I breathe these words,
Exhaling them unsteady,
They flutter about to whomever listens,
Then I inhale the reality,
What I may or may not have said,
And comprehend if they were the right words to display,
My potential mental fray.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem