It’s not
the trace of a lollipop,
Or a strawberry flavored gumdrop,
It’s anger boiling at orifice,
That’s what’s inside my mouth.
If I part lips you will see it,
Years of frustration congregating,
Traveling from every nerve,
To my great opening…to be heard.
Denials and defeats,
Fists that beat,
Eyes unseen,
In my mouth.
Unborn babies…cum,
Unlived dreams…spit,
Unseen destiny…dirt,
In my mouth.
They travel through my veins,
Wanting words applied to them,
Red, hot , fierce, fiery words,
They wait in my mouth.
And as I accept this award,
I can only think about…
The fire I dare take credit for,
In my mouth.
By Badilisho
http://ibwriting.blogspot.com
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