My words are venom. I spit from my mouth a terrible poison. Sorrow and pain linger on my breath. I want my tongue to be sweet like honey Elderbe rry s yrup dripping down my throat , B ut my tongue is forked.
I hiss an d send curses up into the heavens. Ever warring , m y words are bitt er cold, a frost that burns. Dark ness set tles over the land — a murkin ess unending — And I am afraid.
I am sc ared I may never find which tree to hang myself from To rest under its branches To pau se and find that eternal bliss To un lock the myster y of how to speak life, tenderly and have it burst forth o ff the t ip of my ...
‘ Let there be lig ht, ’ I whisper timidly. ‘ Let there be light, ’ I beg.
