I've always made myself less
So that you’d love me more
I tore my heart from my chest
You threw it on the floor
I cut my tongue from my mouth
And held it still, in my hand
And even with it pulled out
It began to make its demands
Seems I've always held my tongue
To insure the peace
Bit my lip and undone
The squeaky wheel gets the grease
But today, I can't keep it quiet
It's time now, that it is heard
A run of the mouth, riot
Until you've heard every word
So, won't you please take a seat
And we will get this thing started
While my tongue and I, get things heated
Beware, these words are not for the fainthearted
About the Creator
Kelli Sheckler-Amsden
Telling stories my heart needs to tell <3 life is a journey, not a competition
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More stories from Kelli Sheckler-Amsden and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Dryads are Calling
They say the forest by Phoenix River sings. Perhaps it is just the wind howling through the leaves, or a particular birdsong. But Percy Fisher knows better; he knows what lies in those woods, and he knows that the forest sings of his demise.
By Leigh Hooperabout 18 hours ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
The beautiful, painful moment when silence breaks and a carefully suppressed truth finally demands to be heard
Magic - definitely one for the glory pot, Kelli. Loved the rhyme (but you are the Queen of it) and could feel the sentiment of the words.