The decaying words

How often I have noticed,
How the frequency of the words that I speak
Has been declining with each day;
As time goes by
I have less things to say vocally
Because
When I write
I fear that I would run out of paper
When I would have a million more things
To portray,
Because when I write
I know no one looks into my eyes
And no one stops me in mid-sentence
To speak their side.
Because when I write
I don’t have to worry about the pitch of my voice
Or how eloquently I speak,
And sometimes,
I write behind closed doors
To not let anyone peek
Into my life in which
I don’t speak
But I have a lot to say.

3 thoughts on “The decaying words

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