The twisted words claw their way into my head
planting themselves into my thoughts,
growing thorns instead of roses,
but these seeds are special.
You see, these seeds are coming from my own mouth.
These thorns are feeding on the words that slip out of my mouth,
Like a cancer cell that is constantly looking for a new cell to
feed on and take over.
These thorns rip their way down my throat,
spreading through my body
like the black plague,
feeding themselves into my lungs; making it hard for me to breathe.
Poisoning every inch of me
and in a way it is the black plague.
It’s a plague that can’t be seen.
(S.J)