Unspoken, Draft #2.

Everything left unsaid
Will be the death of me.
Crowding their way up
Through my esophagus,
Physically choking me
The way they’ve been doing
Metaphorically for years.
Murdered by an inability
To sound syllables
From my tongue;
How passé.

 

4.20.17 Draft 2

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s