Stressed Words.

Words, words
But enough, not big enough to compare
To others, rare
If I actually seem wise
To cut all ties
With the director
Of what I’ve produced, projector
Fizzled out as I downed the last thing someone had said before I digested what I wanted to hear

Drowning, drowning
Down and being held down, heavy lifted propelled
Thrown, a step above the disposal

Bite, biting
Into my tongue lipped sorrows
Worshipping those that lead the upper hand, shipped
Me back into the womb I ripped apart
And couldn’t find the restart
Button, pressed

Crazy, crazy
Touched my skin at such a childish sighting
The lighting
That dimmed so low
Troubling times, I riveled,  shriveled

Not here, lost
And found
She told me I was gone
Not here, lost
They said you hold no remorse
For what I’ve done


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