suppression
I could make the world look and rejoice
Or I could make the world turn
I could shout them out
But I slash them down
To merely dead weeds
In the pit of my stomach.
They can burn and bleed
With my forbidden thoughts -
Irking to stand taller than those
That are right.
I am punished every time I
Whisper them.
...three simple words...
Carly Findlay,
August 2000