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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