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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