A foolish man once said
That English lacked the words
To represent his thoughts
Since he had felt unheard.

He tried out other tongues
That hail from distant lands.
He even tried the ones,
That only speak with hands.

“I can’t communicate!”
He barked and gnashed his teeth,
“Why can’t they understand?”
He stamped and stomped his feet.

The foolish man denied
Advice from everyone
Who told him it’s not hard.
That he had just begun.

“Frustration is a part
Of learning to convey
With greater confidence
The love you want to say.”

“And starting very small
With acts instead of sounds
Could teach you all the words
That you have not yet found.”

The foolish man could tell
That this perhaps was right;
However, foolish men
Adore a foolish fight.

“You speak to me like that
Expecting me to nod?
Do you know anything
About the path I’ve trod?”

“The effort I put in,
It never seems to heal
The solitariness
And loneliness I feel!”

For reasons he could not
Quite fully comprehend
It felt as if his scars
Might have a chance to mend.

While seeking language out
To speak on his behalf
He never spoke his mind.
He realized and laughed,

“So all I had to do
Was say what’s in my heart?
I’m awkward at it still
But this is just the start!”