The room was bright, but it felt heavy.
I fumbled, words slipping out like sand,
awkward, clumsy, and not enough.
Their faces didn't mean to judge,
but I felt it anyway—every glance, and
every pause.
I shrank inside myself,
my thoughts louder than their words.
I replayed my mistakes
like a bad song stuck on repeat, and
wondering how I let this happen.
In that moment, I felt so small.
But maybe even small things grow—
a seed cracks before it blooms, and
maybe I just need time
to turn this into something more.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem