Sew my mouth shut
I'm sixteen,
But my tongue
Deserves a gun shot.
👅
I'm afeard of what my mind's got
That can make psyches rot
Because words in my brain's lot
Are laden with manipulation's spot.
👅
Your silence,
your typical adult-looking-down-on-teenager remarks
Are sharp enough
To pierce my bottom lip.
And only the silence
And the words
At the lump of my throat notice...
They notice as blood drips down onto my chest,
And the needle prods my upper lip
Then in a meticulous
Criss-cross
Pattern they floss
My mouth of its verbal gloss.
👅
Maybe...
He's right,
But everything in my being
Seems to disagree
And everything in my being
Seems to also agree
That it's not his fault
I've just got to keep my speech in a vault
Until I find some adult soul
Whose words don't just break me down with no goal...
But they simply gently restructure my foundation
To ensure I grow into the creation
My mind made blueprints for.
Which is better than making my mind sore
From demolishing my foundation violently like before.
👅
I want to listen
And hear
But I just can't bear
Being broken
Without care
And left soul-weakened.
