Foreign as it struggles past my pride to exit.
Is it strained to those outside my head,
Those that can not feel the cringe inside my skin.
Still, I try,
I laugh and send those sounds to angels.
Still, I cry,
Seeing those tears have no where to go.
It must be tomorrow, when I wake full of dread,
That I let these things pass.
It must be hope, that visits me that day,
When I feel that sound escape my lips.
Tomorrow has the sound that I must embrace.