Make some sense out of this..

In a conversation, when I talk, I make no sense,

If I write to practise, I still don’t make any sense,

I often scuba dive to the depths of my thinking,

To find an expression that is of some sagacious sense,

And yet, all I surface up with is some silly scrap.

Articulate, Expressive, Lucid –is how I want to be,

Stuck, Confused, and even delirious – is what I am,

Never a free-flow to my expression – a quirk of fate,

I feel this soreness; how about you; do you feel this pain too?

Perhaps there is a pair of us here, but don’t despair,

I will write and speak to you and you could write and speak to me.