The Speech that Never Was

He waited in strained silence
Hoping for the chance
To dazzle us
With his brilliance.
He planned his elocution
In minute detail,
Chewing over every word
He proposed to use
Until it sounded right
In his head.
Only then was he ready
To raise his hand to speak,
But by then it was too late.
What he failed to see
Or understand
Was that it was not
The carefully chosen words
From his mind
We wanted to hear,
But the rough, uncut words
Coming straight from his heart
Which would have revealed
Who he really was
Beneath the pretense.