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My throat restricts, twisting and churning
as the words wither to quietus
the words which never left my mouth
deliquesce, bitter and acerbic
How I wish I had vociferated them.
My eyes stay dry
not a tear slips down my cheek
abuse echoes in my eardrums
Am I just inure, or am I emotionless?
Am I just a mechanic, merciless soul
in the skin of a human body?
Or am I just so used to hearing
assault hurled at me?
My oesophagus prickles, dry as a desert
a glaze conceals my eyes
but my lip stays a-quiver
with the words that never saw
the light of the dawn.
Maybe it's just that
my eyes are sore from the crying
the crying, the screaming, the sobbing, the hollering
All that I used up as a child.
And now that I'm old enough
to see the world's harsh, cruel reality,
I understand why I know
so many women
with unheard opinions, mistaken truths, and tearless cries.
Have you no shame?
Moistening eyelashes, wobbling lips, twitching cheeks
How dare you use your words
in such a manner
That they have this effect,
the desolate, devastating, woebegone
tableaux playing on their faces
How dare you have the audacity
To orchestrate such atrocious plays?
Let me set your malfeasant threats ablaze,
I'm craving to see embers reflect in my eyes,
I'm dying to hear you crisp and crackle
Oh, how you mocked our dry, concrete eyes
and cackled at our dampened orbs
Red eyes, sniffling noses, cerise cheeks
are nothing to shy away from.
We will yell, holler, scream and fight
We have stayed mute for too long,
Our tearless cries have been
Unheard for too long,
It's about time
We make ourselves perceived.
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YOU ARE READING
garden of death || clouded freestyle poetry
Poetrylabyrinthine poetry written by yours truly 🎶
