MutedSome times, some times... I feel like writing,Muted by cholif
And I'm not so sure it's so much as something to write about,
Or complain about,
Because every word I'm sure you've heard is all the same,
Because, in some way... What I say,
Doesn't mean anything at all...
Because no matter how much I rant and spew the things to you that I do,
And believe me, I do,
It will never explain the things that transpire in me, and around me...
The things I feel on the side of my hips and the end of my lips, and tongue...
The things that live in me that tell me, what to feel...
The twisted arms that like metal come up and around me,
Like some unhealthy, way... of feeling...
It reaches up.
Up and through my bones, but despite my moans, I,
Just like every other girl in the world who was scared that she had something to share, and didn't.
I, am disgusted.
Like the person on the other side from whom you felt you had to had to hide,
I, am wasted.