The risk
of what you just said
being wrong. Doing damage
to what you tried to mean,
damage that will be irreparable,
and far outweigh what potential benefit
you thought (or were sure) there was,
when you caved
to the instinct to speak, because
There was something you meant
to say. Something
good. Something you thought
this moment needs. That's a risk
you have painfully learned to foresee,
and now you avoid it easily,
and speak without risk
of calamity
or consequence.
But sometimes it's hard
to endure the face
of someone who's run out of things to say,
while you're sitting there just full of them,
unable to spare much meaningful
In your own defense,
over all the times
you had run that risk: saying something well
that you meant to be good,
that was taken so wrong
you felt bad for it.
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