Trapped. Deep in your throat like a nettle-
Stinging your insides and preventing your speech.
Aware, somehow, that you have the power to get it out
Confused, frustrated that you couldn't scream and shout.
You try to conquer the pain, but something stops you.
Maybe it's easier to run away and hide,
Try your best to put it at the back of your mind.
Maybe it's the fear of being stung from the outside.
Silence seems to make the nettle grow
Until it reaches your gut - you feel physically sick,
It gets into your mind, you struggle to think
Desperation causes a tear to fall silently down your cheek.
If only you found the words to share your dark torment
Someone could comfort you, tell you it'll be alright
But you couldn't bear the look of disgust, the horror
Or worse - the suspicion that you were telling lies.
Better to let the nettles invade you completely
Till you can hardly tell life from bad dreams
Better to pretend, to smile, stay silent;
Surrender to the nettles - live in a world of make believe.
