Second Language

Often we go through life without even a care
So let's take a moment, to be self-aware
What I do, as I commune poetically
Is possible only because of my vocabulary

Since birth I've been building my bank of words
The meanings and subtleties I've since inferred
That my poetry is a sum of me currently
Simply because to me life was locally lucky

English is my own language, and dominant enough
I've never needed a second way to express stuff
My privilege, my fortune, and in a way, my curse
Is I've never had to learn another way to express verse

As a result, I can be quite nuanced and complex
In a manner of expression which can leave others vexed
'cause I've had a headstart, of my whole life I guess
So when the domain is English I can seem to impress

But now to acknowledge the expense of my lucky 'gift'
I am verbally sparse in every other language to exist
Yet others manage, with such grace and intellect
That their non-nativeness becomes natural to forget

And then

They apologise to me for lacking a little, sometimes
Because their short learning doesn't match my lifetime's
While I have zero expertise in where they come from
They feel so bad for being ever so slightly wrong

So this is a shout out, to those struggling in a second tongue
You are wise beyond years, I'm linguistically young
Never feel ashamed if you ever have to enquire or ask
These verbal tricks of mine are a single language mask