Pretty Things

To all the pretty things I tried to say,

I’m sorry that I didn’t let you go free,

But closed my mouth at the last second,

Afraid of how people would judge me.

 

 

 

I’m sorry I didn’t let you come out,

In a flow of independence and rebellion,

Because for all my ranting about quiet people,

I’ve seemingly become one.

 

I let others views influence mine,

Until I put away all my own thoughts,

And was too scared to speak my mind,

Twisting my fingers into knots.

 

I sucked in all I thought I was,

And made myself paper thin,

But now I vow to all my pretty words,

I will never let it happen again.

 

I was broken and bruised,

Feeling thin enough to crumble at touch,

All because I clamped my mouth shut,

Over pretty words because I cared too much.

 

But when I let my words go free,

I hope I’ve started a rebellion and a war,

With all the quiet people with pretty words,

Not holding them in anymore.

 

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