by a0therpoet
Silence is golden, and that is why I have no money
Instead of the gift of gab, I have shackles of speech!
The mangling of verbs, nouns, even common phrases,
Come speeding off the starting line
My brain’s already waving the checkered flag
Yet I’m still driving my point home – or not?
As the audience listens, gathered to witness this horror,
The quizzical look on my conversational partner’s face
Sends my brain scrambling for a better way
Peeling out from the pit lane, I try to steer out of the skid
Instead injuring those I meant to befriend
And every dime I spent on my vocabulary
Sends me crashing into the boards once again
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