I’m going on my third day with no words, 

Absolutely nothing I’ve written is worthy  
Not of being read aloud or by others silently,
 
Is it really a bad thing to go on unheard
I’m not unaware of the who that hurts me
And when alone I whisper my own name quietly,
 
Born worried, I’m afflicted now with gerd
And told hold my tongue first time I speak
I’m trying to remember being encouraged see
 
Oh but there it is and you can’t redact,
Let any and all anxiety go before it peaks
Relax, they’re just words and speech is free,
 
Be supple like a mature dandelion at its best,
Let these words flow from my overblown head,
Like achenes on a warm breath for a breeze!