Foreign VoiceI haven't talked in such a long time. I had spent many days silent. I have wanted to say something but was lost at words. Words couldn't express how I felt. I was just a used up crayon in an unfamiliar box. I was a dull color that just didn't fit in.
However one day I was picked to color on a piece of paper and I had found the words that best expressed me. I spoke. My voice was quiet yet harsh. It cracked a few times. My mouth would go dry at the worst of times. Who knew a simple word would start it all? A single word became words, and words would form sentences. Sentences would create paragraphs. And the more I talked the more I realized that this voice couldn't have been my own. I wasn't familiar with this new shade of color; however I knew it was mines, even though it sounded foreign.
Afterwards, I felt drained. My jaw ached and throat sore. My once colorful attitude slowly went back to being dull. I was tired yet content. Silence washes over me as I am put back in the wrong box. Ma