panyabanjoko

Poetry, stories and knitting

Words…

on December 15, 2011

Words crouch

hidden in a tangled mess

crooked they sleep

bent beneath the surface

twisted

tightly

struggling

one by one

they emerge

to be heard, be seen

denied for so long

they become a carcass

buried deep

beyond the surface

hidden

in the stench of rotting decay

festering

daily

like a dot

on the landscape

of hope and glory.

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