Semanticallergia

The day I discovered I had an allergy, the weather knew beforehand.
It seemed to feel sick for me, it raged as if a hurricane were about to tear through,  
Reflecting the turmoil building up inside me.
 
There are words that are agonizing to pronounce.  
The last time I tried to utter one of them, it ended in a muddle.
 
My mind had grasped a fleeting sense of its meaning, so I took a deep, ragged breath,
Letting air flow from my lungs through my vocal cords to create sound waves,  
Even if they were weak, I begged them to emerge.
 
My tongue and lips moved in a shaky sync, trying to shape the sound and voice it out.
I could barely catch those faint attempts, before it fell right back down my throat,
Into the black hole inside, where it remained unspoken.  
 
My stomach churned, a gnawing discomfort tightening within,
My skin burned from underneath, my heart pounded frantically,  
As if it wanted to rip itself from my chest to be saved.
 
That’s when I felt thick, dark clouds swirling into a vortex and bursts of lightning erupting,
The ocean swelled with overwhelming force and the sky split open as heavy rain poured down.
I reached my peak, and the letters surged upward, leaving a bitter taste behind.
Trembling, I stared at the shattered word and flushed it all down the toilet,  
Along with my hope of ever feeling the warmth from saying it.
 
To be sure, I went to the vocologist.
After making a mess in her office, I paid for it with a couple of gummy bears.
In the end, she realized I had what’s not known as "Semanticallergia".