Wax - Serita Mckenzie
Beneath me I feel anger lurking, this recognizable pang that sets fire to me, so I write a poem. My words ball up inside of me, a fist that is constantly opening and closing, and I'm concerned that if I release them with the intensity they strike me with, will the language burn the reader, too? I can't go on with these words and thoughts scorching my mind, a tiny tealight candle melting through the very thoughts that lit it. Other than the inferno, my mind is plain, infested with usual thoughts.
אמן על פי ציטוט זה
ערוך טקסט
או פשוט השאר תגובה:
