How do I explain the grief in my bones,
Or the lava surging through my veins?
What name do I give to the anarchy inside my head,
Or the memories that refuse to sit quietly?
What if I tell you I carry the weight of an ocean
Underneath a skin that feels paper thin?
Or that my body is the home of tremors and thunderstorms
That rock me to sleep every night?
You’d probably think it’s poetry, wouldn’t you?
So I seize my words between my teeth,
Chew them up and swallow them in.
For as much as I wish to spit them out,
I know they’d either fall on deaf ears
Or sound like the jabbering of a mad man.