I Can’t Say

I lost something
Something I can’t name, something I can’t say—
A confidence, a possibility, a spunk.
My head, once full of magic and poetry,
Now filled with numbers so long and words so foreign
I can’t say.
They call it growing older, I call it a growing fear of not being enough.
I’ve been conditioned to jump through my own hoops
But somewhere, somehow, I lost something.

I had a voice that wasn’t afraid—
Now, I can’t say.

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