For the boy within me

 

too afraid to speak,

you must not be helpless,

nor shall I let you become me

because I belong to the same creed

as they have been, who channeled all

the thoughts to cross their mind, in words

branching out of their brain, and well they do

leave my material, beading into a wreath of mute

cicadas as my empathy for your cancer of speechless

tendencies, so chew over some of them to release essence

of the beastly shells, and gulp down all your emotions in poison

of my cheat, so you die

.

Linking it with Sunday Whirl’s Wordle 158.

Image source

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