c l i m b

there's always one 
in every crowd
the one 
clambering on like 
a cymbal 
in love with the sound of 
her own voice 
she is constantly striving 
scrambling to 
climb on top of 
every one else's words
she simply must be 
just a notch higher 
with even more 
grander stories,
even more 
epic experiences 
and even more 
glitter
than everyone else 
seated. 
it makes me tired
just to watch. 
i wonder what she would do 
with quiet.
with little hands
held empty
she might surprise herself 
with how 
freeing that is
i wish i could gently 
whisper to her, 
shhh, dear one. 
let your striving cease
no need to prove yourself 
or perform.
come 
just as you are..
but
she still hasn't allowed me to
squeeze even the 
smallest drop 
of words in 
edgewise. 
she's still talking.
still clambering.
still climbing..