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We often hear the advice to “pick your battles” or to “think before you speak.” While valuable, this wisdom can sometimes morph into a habit of perpetual silence, especially when facing discomfort, disagreement, or injustice. We swallow our words, stifle our feelings, and bite our tongues until the unspoken truth becomes a bitter taste, and the unexpressed emotion, a heavy weight.

This poem, “I Bit My Tongue Too Long,” explores the profound personal cost of such prolonged silence. It’s an honest reflection on the moment we realize the quiet choice to hold back has, in fact, become the loudest form of self-betrayal. It’s a journey from suppressed pain to the quiet, determined whisper of a voice ready to reclaim its rightful space.

I Bit My Tongue Too Long

I bit my tongue too long, a silent plea,
A quiet bargain, made unknowingly.
For peace, I thought, for harmony’s soft reign,
I swallowed anger, wrapped up all my pain.
The words unsaid, a bitter, metal tang,
A ghostly echo, where my spirit sang.

I watched the lines distort, the boundaries blur,
A gentle “no” became a timid “sir.”
My truth reshaped to fit another’s view,
My inner landscape, painted falsely new.
The constant ache, a pressure in my jaw,
Ignoring every innate, natural law.

I bit my tongue when kindness turned to slight,
When gentle whispers vanished in the night.
When burdens shifted, heavy onto me,
And silent sighs became my liberty.
I told myself it’s easier to bend,
Than face the rupture, or a friendship’s end.

The cost was subtle, then it grew so vast,
A shadow stretching from a silent past.
My voice, once vibrant, learned to disappear,
Lost in the echoes of unuttered fear.
The vibrant colors of my soul grew dim,
A distant melody, a whispered hymn.

My body whispered, then it started to shout,
With tension, headaches, and a gnawing doubt.
The words unspoken, carved a path inside,
Nowhere to run to, nowhere left to hide.
The spirit yearned for freedom, light, and air,
Trapped by the weight of burdens I would bear.

Until one morning, in the quiet dawn,
A weary spirit, beautifully drawn,
To breaking point, a truth began to rise,
Reflected clearly in my own tired eyes.
The silent bargain had begun to crack,
There was no turning, truly, ever back.

The pain of holding, sharper than the sting
Of any honest word that I could bring.
The fear of speaking, suddenly so small,
Compared to living with no voice at all.
A quiet rumble, deep within my core,
Demanding truth, and nothing less, no more.

So now, I learn to speak, with trembling grace,
To claim my feelings, and my rightful place.
Each honest word, a breath that sets me free,
Releasing years of held captivity.
The metal taste recedes, the jaw unlocks,
As true connection, finally, softly knocks.