w o r d s

These words are in my head

Shouting, begging to be released.

They have slowed but never ceased,

Weighing me down like lead.


I try to keep them inside

Tucked away in the dusty corners

of my black soul, along the borders

Before I commit word genocide.


Because these words are utterly

pouring out of me like a river,

wedged in my brain like a lethal sliver

and cut my skin like stainless cutlery.  


Why do they hold so much power?

Just letters with many a trait,

they can enslave or liberate,

Yet they're used carelessly every hour.


We say but we don't think

Words are weapons,

but I'll be defenseless-

I'd rather be silent than sink.



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