Tulip by Silvia Plath
Vocal Characteristics
Language
EnglishVoice Age
Young Adult (18-35)Accents
British (Received Pronunciation - RP, BBC)Transcript
Note: Transcripts are generated using speech recognition software and may contain errors.
tulips by a silver platter, the tulips side too excitable. It is winter here. Look how wide everything is. How quiet, How snow did I'm during and Peacefulness line by myself quietly as the light lives under his white walls. There's bad thes hands. I am nobody. I have nothing to do with explosion. I've given my name and my day closed to the nurses and my history were honest A's and my body to surgeons. They have prop my head between the pillow and issued card that can I between two white kids that would not shot stupid people. It has to take everything in. The nurses pass and pass. They're no trouble. They passed the way girls posit Hill in their white cops, doing things with their hand, one just the same as another. So it is impossible to tell how many there my back body is applicable to them. The 10 8 that's water turns to the pebble. It must run over smoke on damn gently. They bring me numbness in their bright needles that bring me asleep. I have lost myself. I'm a sick of baggage. My pattern letter overnight, kids like, Ah, black pill box my husband and child smiling out of the family photo. That's Mayes Cadre into my skin. Little smiling hooks. I have let things slip a 30 year old cargo bold, stubbornly hanging onto my name and address. They have squad make clear of my love and associations scared and Baird on the green plastic pillow trolley. I watch my tears. Eight. I barolos up lining my books sink out of sight and the water went over my head. I am a non now. I've never been so pure. I didn't want any of flowers. I only wanted to lie with my hands done up and be utterly empty how free it is. You have no idea how free the peace one is so big It days is you and it takes and it asked nothing. A name tied a few drink hurts. It is what the dad clothes. And finally I can imagine them shutting their mouth onto it back A communion tablet. The tulips to Iran in the 1st 1 used to hurt me even through the gift pay bikers here then breeze lightly through their white squabble like an awful baby. Their readiness talked to my wound. It corresponds. They're subtle. There seemed to float to. They weighed me down, upsetting me with their sudden tongues and their colors. A dozen red lead sinkers around my neck. Nobody watched me before. Nam watch the total turned to me and the window behind me, where once a day the light slowly widens of slowly pins. I've seen myself like ridiculous or caught paper shadow between the eyes of the sun. In the eyes of the tulips, I have no face. I have wanted to phase myself. The vivid tulips, it my oxygen. Before they came, there was calm enough, coming and going breath by breath without any fuss. Then the tool. Fill it off like a loud noise. Now the air nags and Eddie's around them. The way a river snags and it is around the sunken, rusted red engine. It concentrate my attention that was happy playing and resting without comedian itself. The laws also seem to be warming themselves. The tulips should be behind bars like dangerous animals. They are opening the mouth that they're opening like the mouth of some great African cat. I am aware of my heart. It opens and closes. It's about all of Red Lam's out of share Love Off me The water it says this woman is soul like to see and comes from a country far away has held.