deepundergroundpoetry.com

Mute

I cut the chords from my throat

presenting them as a gift

in homage to the gods of the citadel

burying my resentment

with the bones of my ancestors.


I ripped the nerves from my face

and offered my apathy

to the wraiths that would prey

on the bitterness of mute lamentation.


I tore the veins from my arm

to free the repressed tears

that flowed like a creek over my wrist

and into a silver phial.


I dipped my quill in the phial

and let the shadows hear

the sound of my voice.
TyrannicalWorm
Written by TyrannicalWorm (Nathan A. Brock)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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