Each day I find myself drowning in worry,

Scared to breathe too deeply, upset by the light

Of what could be. But I won’t tell you that—

You might ask why, how come, and I’d have no answers,

Just chunks of silence where my words should be.

I don’t want to keep scripts,

But each thought of the army, the distance, the duty,

Breaks my heart open like a raw wound,

And I lose my language, like sand slipping through fingers.

I hate that feeling, that loss of voice,

The quiet that swallows me whole.

I wish I could open up,

But every time I try, the words scatter,

A flock of birds startled into flight,

Leaving me standing in the stillness,

Lost in my own storm.

I know I shouldn’t dwell on the future,

Yet it spins in my mind,

A whirlwind of fears,

Each one sharper than the last,

Clawing at my chest, demanding to be heard.

Writing it down is one thing,

Turning pain into poems,

But I long to speak them,

To let them flow from my lips like a confession,

Not just ink on a page.

But the shadows loom,

My fears like shadows, heavy and haunting,

Weighing down my voice,

And I’m left here, lost in this silence,

Aching to break free.