๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐
๐ข๐พ๐ท๐ผ๐ฑ๐ฒ๐ท๐ฎ ๐๐ธ๐ต๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ช๐ผ ๐๐ฎ๐ป ๐ข๐ธ๐พ๐ต #8
They gather like storms behind my teeth,
Heavy and heaving, without release.
Each syllable held, sharp and raw,
Scratches the walls of a clenched maw.
*
Not every truth is freed into air,
Some burn brighter when left thereโ
Buried in the vault of bone and breath,
A language of anger, Mercyโs death.
*
But silence builds its own sharp blade,
A mouthful of debts I never paid.
The voice withheld, the song unsung,
Still thunders loud in an empty lung.
*
My tongue, a prison; my throat, a grave,
For every โno,โ deepens the crave
and grows a vine of verses, tight and fierce,
Threatening the lips they are to pierce
*
Until one breathโa screaming chordโ
opens the vault, unsheathes the sword.
And all that we had once contained
becomes the flood, the storm, the flame.
*
That is the sum of what's unheardโ
That is the weight of
repressed words
About the Creator
Lou Holz
Font guide:
(All my stories are in fonts so you can tell them apart)
๐ฟ๐๐๐ ๐๐ ๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐/๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐
๐ข๐ฒ๐ท๐ฐ๐ต๐ฎ ๐๐ธ๐ฎ๐ถ๐ผ
๐๐ฅ๐ ๐ฃ๐๐๐ค
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Suit up and read - it's gonna be legen - wait for it - dary.
Enjoy reading!
Comments (5)
"My tongue, a prison; my throat, a grave," That was my favourite line. Loved your poem!
Gosh, you express the frustration and rage of having to hold your tongue so well. I think not feeling able to speak, slowly poisons your soul and everything you stand for. I thought this was amazing.
This is powerful, Lou. I agree with Tim and Luna's comments. Silence can be a terrible thing, when it's a silence that you shouldn't have to sit in. You expressed that astonishly well and in a relatable way with your words!
Don't cultivate yourself in others' hearts. Don't force others in your own hearts. Others' rulers can't measure your life, and others' maps can't find the path you want to take.
Powerful reflection on the weight of silence and the inevitable release of whatโs been held back. Itโs a reminder of how the words we withhold can shape us until they finally find their voice