These words follow me everywhere I go.
I don’t quite understand them.
I don’t know what they are, but I can’t lose them.
These words have their own voice.
They sing and I cry along.
I try to master them.
But they are the ones who control me.
These words are my very being.
They are lost inside themselves.
I cannot comprehend them, as I can’t comprehend myself.
Who am I?
These words cannot tell me.
I’ve tried to stifle these words.
But they refuse to be silent.
In my dreaming, the words are pictures.
They show me glimpses of what I want.
Corpses with my face written in the water.
Drowning the letters as I surface.
As I wake I feel the water on my face.
But the words brought only tears, not an ocean.
Sometimes they spell fire.
As the letters burn my body, I feel like I’m alive.
The smoke in my lungs feels holy.
I speak but my voice is broken.
The words will not escape.
So I accept the silence and let the flames caress my lips.
They see my words in my blood.
They leave me as if its easy.
They tell me I’m crazy.
But they can’t see that their words don’t hurt me.
Their words define me.
I am nothing but words.
What you say will control me.
I say that some people are assholes and that if im in control either ignore them or avoid them and find some less judgemental people to be around.