Cut Out My Tongue

Weights in the shape of hearts pin me to the marble floor

Lives at stake, and I cannot articulate one syllable. 

A child screaming as their skin melts off their bodies, but I cannot form a word to stop it.

A prying sing-songy voice whispers that words won't help

and voices only belong to the strong

but I don't buy it.

I drag my heaving body from underneath the stones of silence

tongue tied and removed

and find solace in the blessing of sight

and the universes of literacy.

A sword lies waiting for me by the stairs. 

Well balanced between my first finger and the pad of my thumb


I lie awake

and write


finally win

in a place where words reach the other's ear

where the recipient finally understands 

and my voice pierces their brain so aggressively

that if words could kill

they would break knees and cripple pride

forcing the victim 

no the attacker

to put down their guns, and weep with remorse

to repent

to finally find the love within the truth

told by a girl who's tongue was sliced short

by the forefingers and pads of thumbs of the people whom she trusted to get close enough to her mouth.


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