What you may say
is an aim to crucify
the quiet rush of flavours
the lips that speak truths
are brandished "witch"
hidden from view
violent tempests
dreams
Power is swallowed like a pill
made to condense into sweeter forms
behaviour is brought to silence
wounds are covered in haste
memory is tore
into digest able chunks
ready for the listening ear
i will not be silenced
from the truth
i will not be taught gratitude
for lies
i will speak
i will dream
i will dance
apologies will no longer drip
from honey sweet lips
i am wise
i am she that speaks
i am the wind whisperer
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