He told me to scribble
all of my hopes
But when you’re a skeleton
Limbs rattle and clank
only to cause a flood of ink
No real tears to cry
or soft words remain
to envelope bones
Weathered by the years
softened by the rain
He told me to write down all of my dreams…
but there are bats in my skull
and nobody in the world
wants to hear them scream
Some things you can’t say
to polite company
or in general
lest they shut you away
My memories do not belong in words
but in containment
A cage for violence and blood
who flutter as frightened birds
