Caught short on the wrong side of the sentence,
It was its own thing now.
The words a force of thought rippling its way through the ears that heard it
Reactions, repercussions, responses.
They soon began their own assault,
Now it was more than a voice in the head.
The words seek out the emotions they were intended for, kicking and smashing and suffocating them.
Torturing the unseen with brutality and grace.
The mouth seals shut, the voices go silent. Your on your own now
A curling, downcast look,
The hand of shame is pushing and blushing its way to the forefront.
An attempt to save the unsavable, an attempt to console the inconsolable.
Too late, for the hate has left the building
A stain on the soul, forever and always.
Forgiven but not forgotten. Only time will tell.
YOU ARE READING
Homegrown POEMS
PoetryThey forced their way to the surface and my fingers did as they were told.
