If You Can't Talk Poem by Lyndsey Gillett

Me, me, me,
Could be perceived as self obsessed,
Yet really a need to get feelings off my chest,
Some sort of blockages,
My heart to my head,
Then from thoughts to what is said,

But I suppose it has its advantages in writing flow,
If you cut off the voice the words can glow, shine,
What I can't vocalise, I can release in rhyme,
Either way I need to empty my vessel,
Or those feelings begin to wrestle, with,
My everyday life,
It clouds over normal interaction,
Conversation with others who's heads seem clear,
Clear from congestion,
Mental indigestion.