But sometimes your tongue is so laden with all the ways you can phrase a sentence that you end up swollen and heavy-jowled, and all that comes from your lips are disjointed words interjected with hesitation and insecurity. You sit down, red, and pretend you aren't being stared at by people who're wondering what the hell you're doing there; you pretend you aren't pretending those people are staring at you because it's much easier to displace the responsibility of criticism than admit you hate some aspect of your identity.
Whisper sweet, gentle; speak as if you are autumn breeze & sea salt in waltz. Spew not vitriol (that black oil over virgin blue) reject the poison of sharp tongues & double-edged oaths. Though satin your voice, intent is fire: don't damp your manifesto.