Onyx in your ears, I thought I heard hell speak climbing out of your vocal chords.
Impish muttering while your caregiver delivers silver accented colloquialisms.
If only they could see you now.
If only you could impart some kinder wisdom
Instead feeling rushed, victimized. Not allowed caffeine anymore, not allowed fresh greens anymore, not allowed to be in the company of other residents as long as you are coughing: letting tiny Incubi voices flutter in your words.
Dec 26, 2012
Dec 26, 2012 at 5:12 PM UTC
Onyx in your ears, I thought I heard hell speak climbing out of your vocal chords.
Impish muttering while your caregiver delivers silver accented colloquialisms.
If only they could see you now.
If only you could impart some kinder wisdom
Instead feeling rushed, victimized. Not allowed caffeine anymore, not allowed fresh greens anymore, not allowed to be in the company of other residents as long as you are coughing: letting tiny Incubi voices flutter in your words.
Request permission to use this poem