A dry, brittle throat hides the voice
I’ve been searching for throughout my life

I lost something along the way,
something that changes how mirrors reflect

Watching rust form on the iron railings
temporarily calms the pacing cells under my cold skin

There’s a reason fright saturates my veins
with uncertainty and truth

I’ve never learned to grow up

Amy Backus

http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/strengthened-hands-with-weakened-knees/