I have so much to say
But I don't want to tell anyone any of it.
I focus on hating myself so much that I'm sick of me.
I press pen to page in hopes of making some way to cope but the words dont flow like they use to.
Those pipes are rusted shut.
Clogged by to many thoughts of myself that came from my own sick head.
The ones that come from loving lips and caring smiles sit outside and freeze.
I want to write my pain into oblivion but it doesn't go willingly.
I could bleed my hands ripping up the rusted copper pipes and give myself a new outlook but the foundation is too thick too break through and I don't have a hammer strong enough to hit it with.
Steel pressed to concrete spelling out my words with smashing instead of ink on the page I set out to write on.
But the strokes of the hammer are quiet.
Because I'll never say any of it.