I’ve realised why I speak in metaphors.
It is because my mother tongue was never understood before, so now I Papier-mâché symbols, hope you uncover those hidden messages stuck between the glue and tell me what I actually mean. Perhaps it is because I am a writer that I find comfort amongst the vague strings of consciousness rather than the formatted and assertive science which is being straight forward with you. Perhaps my tongue cannot speak in anything but metaphors, my fingers can only collect images and paste them onto my body hoping you connect the dots. Perhaps it is stuck in my palate, the truth clawing away at my vocal cords reaching for your hand to just tell you how I feel yet, my lips conceal the exit.
Clouded by the metaphors.
-Original poem by Demi Whitnell