Language

I’m writing, aren’t I? Writing in the language of my endless youth
That continues into my strange everyday. I think with my tongue,
How to move and give grace of speech. My language.
Like I own it. Yeah right.

Try to teach it. A whole new language that seems to have no point.
No reason besides to confuse, to complicate.
Just learn to speak it, damn you!
Apparently I just built a dam.

It all looks so easy from the video. The smiles and happy faces
As they all understand. Strange sounds mutate into words
They suddenly know. I’m meant to evolve them. Evolve myself.

An old language they say. “You can speak, can’t you” they say.
All these people, coming to open a ‘British’ world.
I teach to escape. To close it.
How ironic.