It Will Get Better


It Will Get Better
Written By:  Jill Sheets






It hurts me that I cannot talk
Not to sing.
Only a whisper 
Or a gravel voice coming out.

I answer the phone at work
No one knows it is me
Or call me sir.
I close my mouth quickly
So I do not force out
“I am not a guy.”
Or
“My name is not Joe.”

Trying to find the humor in the situation
There is none.
My heart is crumbling with desperation.
Trying to force my voice out
To do what the speech therapist wants.
My face
Neck
All of my muscles tight.

Stress
Should be a bad word.
It only makes things worse.
How am I suppose to distress?

It will get better.
Please God,
Make it better.

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