Stutter

My words spill out and over;
A kettle too quick to boil. 
Tendrils pushing upward;
A sprout breaking soil.

My words split and crumble;
An avalanche of stone.
Sensations in my throat,
I feel it in my bones.

My words spiral and tilt,
Hitting granite and gold.
But the story on my lips,
Isn't the one my mind has told.

Reviews

[Relic]

I can remember stuttering like a fool at family gatherings. I've learned to slow down but once in a while I still get it. I feel sorry for people who have it really bad. You can feel it well up inside you while it's happening.

Good poem.