Ever so lately, my jaw has felt like concrete
Compulsively clenching itself
I suppose my prose can no longer can compete
Haven’t suffered such violent silence before
My new found botulism
Trying to tell me my wording is poor
Since the day I ran out of luck
My subconscious prefers
That I’d kindly shut the hell up
A painful ache paired with each thought I pursue
Lost control of everything else
Why not my body too?
Next time I open my mouth
Hopefully I’ll have learned
How to make the verse come out
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem