My words are venom.
I spit from my mouth a terrible poison.
Sorrow and pain linger on my breath.
I want my tongue to be sweet like honey
Elderbe rry s yrup dripping down my throat ,
B ut my tongue is forked.
I hiss an d send curses up into the heavens.
Ever warring , m y words are bitt er cold, a frost that burns.
Dark ness set tles over the land — a murkin ess unending —
And I am afraid.
I am sc ared I may never find which tree to hang myself from
To rest under its branches
To pau se and find that eternal bliss
To un lock the myster y of how to speak life, tenderly
and have it burst forth o ff the t ip of my ...
‘ Let there be lig ht, ’ I whisper timidly.
‘ Let there be light, ’ I beg.
