"I write only because there is a voice within me that will not be still."
- Sylvia Plath
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My words run like water. Streaming down your face with grace, Intervening at your lips, you're drowned in my dark abyss. Your ears ring to the tunes I sing And you quietly hum along to the hymns they bring. Every ache in your bones Is due to my lack of songs, So I continue to drench you in honey and your monsters sweetly devour you in the midst of my trap, soaked in rich chocolate. You try to eat your way through, But you never get full.
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