I walk on these dead feet crashing, stumbling
These words I try to speak fall through the top of my mouth
My tongue needs a band aid, its leaking moans
Trembling I search for an answer
I hear whispers
“well help you” “come to us” “speak, we can help”
But they are lies
Like a rainbow kite floating through a silent wind
I yearn to shut it all down
Take hold of a cloud and float away
Im being cliché
I know its true
Just another miserable child typing
Lives flagged
Because we are all so obedient
We dance under their finger
We fall to ground when they tell us to
We are happy when they tell us to
We
Are
Docile
Dogs
“roll over, speak, sit.”
But im an old dog
I for one cannot be tought new tricks
I type with these dead fingers, crashing, stumbling
These words speak true,
A deafening bawl
That only reaches me