I found a notebook filled with fragments.
fleshless bones,
skeleton poems,
stillborn fiction.
I reread them,
bleedings from a badly sutured year,
throatless memoir
my own rage
choked by my own pen.
my own thoughts shrouded, unallowed.
no more.
I tore each page from the spine and burned my words alive.


Missy is a Cleveland poet, madly in love with words.

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