I cannot seem to hold my tongue;
and I just don’t know why;
perhaps it’s that I’m high strung;
and will be, till I die.
Like boiling water, in a pot of tea;
thoughts expand; and must declare;
whatever’s severly pressuring me;
and my words go everywhere.
Sometimes, overjoyed by happiness;
I have to just speak out;
other times annoyed by the crassness;
and my heart demands I shout.
Unfortunately, it’s usually anger;
that sets my vocabulary boiling;
and such, puts me in serious danger;
of my righteous acts, spoiling.
I start most days on an even keel;
unless I already talked in my sleep;
however I may think that I feel;
there’s always hidden anger, deep.
I don’t understand such deep frustration;
perhaps, it’s that I’m living alone;
with no one to talk to, about causation;
life let out the air of love from home.
Although I try to have good thoughts in control;
those which manage my voice and each lung;
it’s extremely difficult to achieve that goal;
for, weak are muscles, that hold back my tongue.