Words are like pin pricks on the skin,
pulling over and over again on sensitive flesh.
Instead of blood beading from the verbal thorns
tears roll down the emotionally wounded chest.
Your words carry a weight, they can define you,
confine you, or create someone fresh and new.
I wield words like a sword, careful not to slice too thick lest I maim your
heart and lacerate your soul.
I want to crush you because of your lack of words.
I give and I give just to pacify the cacophony of silence and things unsaid.
It’s madness, you make me sick,
sick in the heart and the head.
I want to tear you apart and build you again based on the things you’ve never said.
I’ve decided to destroy you.
My words act like a sweet poisonous kiss,
ready to wreck your heart and maim your chest.
But yet I stay silent. You aren’t dead to me yet but you will be soon
Better yet, kill me instead.
Use your words voice,
it can only be a whisper
but it will still echo through my head like a damn roar.
Kill me, please. Say something.