I don’t know why I can’t speak. And I don’t know why
That when I walk into a crowded room
And I don’t know why my throat
Constricts but expands all at once,
As if a snake is suffocating a balloon.
And I don’t know why that
When I try to speak,
All that comes out is a squeak.
All that comes out is a pathetic little noise,
One that you would expect from a terrified child
When they’ve lost the only thing they’ve ever held dear.
I don’t know why I can’t move.
I don’t know why a room full of people
Who are perfectly content to dance,
I don’t know why I feel that I’m tied to this chair,
With every new song, or every loud laugh,
I feel a new rope emerge
And tie me down even tighter than before.
I don’t know why I’m crying, Or why with every
“Come dance with me,” I hear
“You ruin everything.”
And I don’t know why I’m angry. And I don’t know why I’m like this, But I’m so angry that I can’t speak, That I can’t move,
And that I cry.
I’m just so angry,
And I don’t know why.