My words stick to the Roof of my mouth like peanut butter, Like white bread, And no matter how hard they try, They canβt escape. Lucky to make it past my brainβs thick fortress, Now they sit useless at the tip of my tongue, Wishing to come forth but my mouth Not forming the words. My vowels languish in my throat and My consonants sit listless, All my verb phrases and direct objects Lie in a jumbled mess, Too disheartened to make a move. They know that if they leave my lips, Others will take them and cut them up, Mince them like onions, But the only person who will cry over them is Me. Eventually, too many letters will clamor at my Lips for attention, and my throat will Close entirely, Never fessing, Admitting, Confessing, The things I feel.
"I don't want to admit to something, if all it's gonna cause is pain" ~ Eminem, 'River'