My mouth has been full of stones for years,
Scratching at my throat when I try to speak
Pretty poetry. Nothing has been pretty.
I have existed in the space between sun rays,
The dark behind the diamond dust,
Looking for peace in stability with my wild heart pounding
Away inside of me. I lost the will to speak, lost
My poetry. The journey climbs on outside of me,
I am not sure who carved this out or how I got here.
I know some places to set some blame
But when it comes down to it, I know blahblah
Only I can change.
It does nothing for me. I started piling secrets
I have no choice but to keep.
Demons stretch, yawn but never sleep.
They kill, and I’ll let them take only me.
Demons digging graves in my ink, overflowing.
They will bury me. Bury my poetry.