I'm trying

I'm trying
lesser than I'm supposed to
but trying.
There's a poem stuck in my throat
and I'm trying every means
to let it out.
It's burning, rising
almost like a flame
but my words know better
and my mouth, none.
Maybe that's why they say
I'm so quiet,
so much they can't
pull out words from me.
But I'm trying,
Am i not ?
I've lived with this whole time;
it has grown with me,
cried too
and if what they say is true,
Maybe it's a part of my soul.
But I'm semi-atheist
and a son of my father
so I can almost ever say no.
But the flames is rising
and I've a lot to say.
my throat arches and
I'm burning
the flame rises
than goes back again.
I'm this poem
and this poem is me
and it's never enough.
But I'm trying.