And here we stand
Coughing out pretty words in strained voices
That no one wants to hear
And we will strand
Them together
Word by precious word
And use them for our escape
For we are stranded
Amongst those whose words have been
Handed
To them
Not knowing where they’ve previously landed
Instead they back away from us
Not wanting to catch what we have
And they will write off our facts as fairytales
Blind themselves to our truths and
Hang themselves
With force fed phrases
They mistake for freedom
And we are bound by words that have no meaning
But carry enough weight to drag us to the bottom
All together now.
And God forbid we have an original thought
Or be crucified on a cross built
Out of promises and confessions
Our hands nailed and bloodied with punctuation
And a wreath of question marks around our heads
Block the passage.
We are lepers who don’t wish to be saved
Keep your healing hands to yourself
I will not bathe in your sacred words and be reborn
I am skin
Old and new
Raw and filthy
I will not be cleansed.
(Source: scribbles-and-scratches)
