The Soul And The Stutter — Summary

Let me tell you my story, my friend, But do you have the patience, To wait for me until the end?

For I am worried, It is plain to see, That people don't understand, They just get angry at me.

They bid me to hurry, They blame it on my speech. When I take too long to speak, They all get exasperated, by me.

I keep my mouth shut, For the shame is not worth it, not now, not ever. Why should I try and make friends, When I know they will leave me sooner or later?

They hustle and whisper when I step into the class, The students trip me over, judgement in their every glance. I try to smile, I try to act cool, But every single time they force me to speak, I only come out humiliated, like an unwanted fool.

My parents seek solutions, To the Doctor they take me. He doesn't even ask how I feel, I'm just another one of his patients, A failure he has the unlucky task to heal.

Sometimes, only sometimes, I cry to myself. Why am I so alone, Why does no-one understand?

Are you still here? Have you waited till the end? At last, I have found you! A stuttering soul's only friend.

Show the whole poemHide the poem

Learn Poems app

Try the Learn Poems app

Everything from the website trainer, and more: new exercises, voice recording and sharing, reminders, quick review.

The speaker is a young person with a stutter, and the poem is their attempt to finally be heard. It opens by asking the reader a simple question: do you have the patience to wait for the end of the story? That question matters, because patience is exactly what the speaker rarely gets. At school and elsewhere, people hurry them, get annoyed, whisper, and even trip them. The speaker falls silent, convinced that friendships will end anyway, and ends up feeling like an "unwanted fool."

The loneliness runs deeper because even help feels cold. The doctor treats the speaker as a patient to be fixed, not a person with feelings. The mood is sad and quietly aching, with moments of private crying. Yet the ending shifts. By asking "Are you still here?", the speaker turns the reader into the friend who stayed. The final lines offer a small, hopeful relief: being listened to all the way through.

Read also

More by YourWorldFriend

All poems
AnxiousYourWorldFriend

The Black Hole

Shall I open the door? So far and so wide, Reaching from the skies to the floor, Staring with big, black eyes.
SadYourWorldFriend

The Memory

An innocence like no other, He plays with his blocks. Tipping and tapping, My sadness, he mocks.
ContemplativeYourWorldFriend

The Living Room

The television larks at the sound of static, The soft couch, so snug and ecstatic. The carpet dances at the trace of warm feet, Treading on its fibres, a whole world underneath.