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No Succour

Gagging on silence.
Rammed down passages  
meant for expression.
Vein bulges in vain;  
Similes seemingly suffocate;  
Adjectives Asphyxiate,
Shut down afore it articulates  
Anything of meaning.
Half thoughts, brought forth,  
Castrated. Mid expression.
Communication? Nought.  
Lip taut, with repression.
Choking on word venom;  
Berated like your less then.
Freedom of speech, you thought?
No succour. The lesson.
Written by Brokenpoet2020
Published
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