I wish I could write all the time
I hate talking, like a mime
I’m a thinker not a speaker
I open my mouth but the words don’t move
I write them down and they seem so smooth
Their legs don’t seem to work
Yet they speak when I do the work
When I write I’m always right
But when I speak i never reach the peak
I’m a thinker not a speaker and the world seems to be a little bleaker because my thoughts can’t be portrayed, this world I have betrayed.
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