enclosed mouths hold back words of anger;
our tongues long to spit fire from their furnaces
which you carefully locked
in fear of letting the coals scorch your own skin.
we sit in fear of how our fire might affect the stationary objects beneath us.
we know not whether they will remain solemn and soft
or if our burning words of truth and justice will provoke harmful action.
we live our lives tip toeing through battlefields in fear of losing our footing.
we pray to the gods that our feet don't betray us,
for we have seen what the pressure plates do when activated.
witnesses of torn apart angels in their holy grounds,
preaching the word of honesty.
but their lectures distracted them,
and the land mines set out to destroy their pure speeches.
for no one likes the truth,
and your land mines hate them the most.
a/n: hi i wrote these back in 2016 and so my poetry style is kinda different now,, it starts to shift around "did i upset you?" annndddd yeah,, that's that
YOU ARE READING
the beekeeper.
شِعرVent Poetry Warning: Strong language Trigger warnings: Schizophrenia Self Harm Abuse (physical, verbal, and sexual) Gore
