Apple Crumble

Maybe not being able to hear a voice in my head
Is an invitation to speak gentle thoughts out loud
I’ve made the mistake of yelling them into a crowd

Faces of strangers marred with darkness
Muzzling me with a lack of guidance
Still I stumble
Cutting my hands with tools I fumble
A voice meant for singing turns to a mumble
Artificial humility starts to crumble

The resilience of light born in darkness
Lemon juice drips in a fiery ring
Softness lends itself to a flexible hardness
I can finally hear a voice when I sing