Do me a favor O talented seamstress,
I won't pester you too much,
Then you can go back to sewing dresses,
Each unique with your magic touch.
I ask of you kindly,
I'll be in your debt,
Stitch my lips together,
They'll forever be met.
This may seem to you strange,
But I don't want to speak,
They all despise my words,
Of hatred they reek.
I'll still have my words,
I'll print them on paper,
Maybe they'll be of more value,
Than they were earlier.
I'll still have a voice,
I'll use it to hum,
Songs and poems,
I won't be deaf but dumb.
I just won't have,
The ability to say,
My voice and words,
Won't meet; to my dismay.
At least they'll be happy,
That I'm lesser than them,
Do this for me, O Seamstress,
Sew my lips by the hem.
