Are my thoughts too loud,
Does the breeze of my breath graze your skin in the heat of summer?
And my hands cling too tightly that your palms sweat,
And you count the seconds until I notice?
Do my words come out staggered and awkward-
Far apart and yet too close,
And do I linger far too long for hands held too stiff for an applause? [one that won’t occur]

Do you like me kinder, sweeter and quiet?
Am I preferred to lie in the heat of battle,
And to falter at rejection? [Whilst known I did]
Is it not okay to stand too quickly, [After being paddled down]
Or am I meant to bow to the sun whilst turning my back on the moon,
Meant to favour right over left,
Sand on my blistering palms instead of the fields used to roam,
And thank the lord that I have hands at all.

When my skin starts to peel, [Under pounding heat]
Are my lips then parted justifiably?

When my eyes start to dry,
And my throat starts to ache, [Parched, unlike before]
Are my rights there undeniably?

Is there proof of humanity,
Under rubbled buildings?
Are our bones a remnant of life
Or do we lie there undefinably.