My everything feels like
lead because of
the words that roll down
from the tip of my ears
and trace their way through my tear ducts.
They stick like lumps inside of my stomach
and catch in the back of my throat.
I take pills to ease them down.
I throw up to scratch them out.
I bleed out to drown them from me.
And still they're ever-present,
all knowing.
They bring me to my knees...
I am made of lead
because of the words you
spilled out over me.
