I sit, the headphones on, press record and talk
I stumble through the lines, my voice is soft and steady
I try to make some sense, of what I'm trying to say
The words get choked, mixed up, perhaps I'm not that ready
To say the things I want, I fear too many tears
And broken words will flow, the salty tears my face
It's hard to talk like this, the pleas on unheard words
Will never reach her now, her wonder awesome grace
I still record myself, through broken words of love
I find myself in circles, repeating words untold
She'll never get this clip, I think I'd better stop
And pack away the headphones, for me to be so bold
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem