First, she thinks, or maybe not
Like everyone else whose thoughts don’t have to rot
Words repeated in her cerebral
Before vented through her buccal
A consistent battle between within and without
Almost like a caged bird with no out
Wanting to man the skies higher
But for a red muscular barrier
She silently hopes her tongue and vocal cords
Have reached a ceasefire as regards their discords
So many jokes and words and clapbacks
Consigned to the bins of her mind in black sacks.
Without being told
“I live to speak another day” was a motto she grew to hold
_aJibola
Photo Credit: http://suburbanprepping.com/the-sound-of-silence-by-disturbed/
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