poetry

Kill The Poets

Flickr / Saxon Campbell

I am made of torn pages and hushed whispers.
I am dark nights, long and lonely.
I am burning tongues,
and throats raw from screams
that can’t escape selfish mouths.
I am the quiet hours,
when you punch yourself repeatedly,
and retreat behind the barricades
left by the bruises.

giraffevader

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2 thoughts on “Kill The Poets”

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