A dry, brittle throat hides the voice
I’ve been searching for throughout my life
I lost something along the way,
something that changes how mirrors reflect
Watching rust form on the iron railings
temporarily calms the pacing cells under my cold skin
There’s a reason fright saturates my veins
with uncertainty and truth
I’ve never learned to grow up
Amy Backus
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strengthened-hands-with-weakened-knees/
