Jan 2021
The walls of my throat are scratched,
By all the fishbones I've swallowed,
Forced down by gulps of rice and vinegar.
But sometimes,
The bones refuse to move.
Sometimes,
They remain stuck.
By all the fishbones I've swallowed,
Forced down by gulps of rice and vinegar.
But sometimes,
The bones refuse to move.
Sometimes,
They remain stuck.
