They stole my name,
The gratitude I offered
When others made me feel in the likes of a being

Flow of pure and cryptid in my mind
Blown to bits by flies
Swatting until they fall
In the stick,
Slick tears tangled in my brows

Upside down I starve,
But do not let my satisfaction command your hunger,
For hope might heal a new me

Will my words leak,
Like sloppy ink on the sheets
Or will silence rule in the crook of my neck,
Edging a sob and maybe nothing worth calling music at all