Stammer

I write these words without delay,

Devoid of strife or care,

But when I speak it’s with dismay,

And panic in the air.

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I know the sounds I wish to make,

The message to convey,

Yet standing there I start to flake,

And fall to disarray.

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First nouns depart, as vowels set sail,

The adjectives? They shift.

All verbs then run as I’m derailed

By consonental drift.

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Then silence falls, as loud as hell,

Behind my teeth it shakes,

I try to scream, to shriek, to yell!

But in the end, I break.

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So here I sit, in soundless death,

With screens to hide my shame,

I’ll pen these words, lest I draw breath

And falter, yet again.

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https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9qcpef/butterflies/e88bsn0

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/9q78vc/the_moon_keeps_on_rising/e88c0gi

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Edit: Some tidying.