The thoughts and things that we write out
On paper because they get too cluttered
In our heads. Some people want to watch
Them burn because we dared and uttered
The unbearable truth with words, a splotch
Among the “perfections” of this tamed world.
Why do we punish those who give us peace?
We give people an alternative universe to
Live their fantasies. All of the pages curled
Up because we can never stop the release
Of hatred spewing out like flames, but you
Watch from the sidelines, being too afraid
To take part in the action. I wish everything
Can stay etched in marble and stone forever.
I wish they would have lingered and stayed.
I wish the words would hang and cling
To my skin so I can never endeavor
The pain I once felt all over again.
With the burning, I can feel the stain.