In my face, a gaping space so wide,
the mouth, where thoughts and words do bide,
from mind to toe, they take their flight,
seeking truth, or weaving a slight.

My tongue, no bones to hold its sway,
speaks freely, night and day,
though my heart may bear a scar,
it still beats on, both near and far.

In confusion's grasp, we sometimes fall,
when heart and mind don't sync at all,
I must express, release the reign,
words the wind beneath my wings remain.

The subtle word, my foe at times,
causing pain with its wicked chimes,
in language, unkindness may reside,
leaving tears, no secrets to hide.

My tongue, it's bound, can't break the chain,
silenced by teeth, a captive's bane,
no singing, no shouting, no outcry,
in silence, my tongue, it's left to lie.