Voices

They carry our thoughts, so why can't they convey them? When happy and content, bright like lilacs on a late sunday morning. Mine, squeaky like an fearful mouse, yet gruff like a man's. When sad, sorrowful and awkward, like rain clouds waddling in on a saturday afternoon at the park. Mine, cracked like a shattered vase, and uncertain like a broken thermometer. When angry, fiery like a dropped match. Mine, tumbling like a toddler down a set of stairs. When apathetic, smooth like the tide. Mine, defensive like a mother bear.