What about the words I do not say?
Where do they endlessly play and play?
Floating somewhere in my head?
Showing up somewhere full of dread?
The trash is already full and-
My mind cannot take such a demand
So the only place I have is on the tip of my tongue
Yet am I really ready for what that has brung-?
a mountain in which hide caverns of regret-
an ocean with only waves made of sweat
So I just don’t say anything-
Let my words sit there in nothinh
But there they lie ready to fly
With two small lips that are easy to pry
On days I do find myself unprepared
I find was not meant to be said declared
And once my words have reached the air
I am met with only an awkward stare
I wait for the day that I can admit
That I meant it
Every word I ever said
Every last word