When I was a child, I told a lie, now I speak
however unwell, without a tongue, I swallow
even at my age, with difficulty, I love
nothing more than lies, this power over the weak
I speak not a word and study Latin and Greek
witness to horrors untold, nothing too shallow
abject poverty, vagaries of the hard shove
situations rise unexpectedly, the street
answers no questions, offers no patience, the bleak
crimson silence, shades above Hades underground
haunted by lost time, in search of an honest meal
insult the garbage as rotten, stinking, unsound
liquid spills over the edge, past the dumpster wheel
dreams of industry crushed, inaction, to my feet
I rise in defeat, voiceless as my poetry
triumph in success, my failure to voice a sound
other than husky, guttural noise from my throat
lift disappointment off the blackboard, knowingly
different in difference, my mother tongue speaks a tome
aspects of random violence, I witness round
little spheres appear only to disappear, float
inside-out as coats hastily worn, as beards shorn
eminently crowned, a prince with no tongue, to roam
neglected by fear, one amongst many, the lie
obviously false, consequences measure trust
with robust flavor, the scales balance a thrown die
I impart wisdom from the black box of our lust
sullen as grey skies, truth remains hidden, unborn
persistent in proofs, logic ignored, the masses
engage with knowledge knowing nothing beyond light
articulate grunts, I affirm dismal delight
kiss me with French tongue, this experience passes
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