
Loaded Gun
Quiet
always quiet
My words
ricochet
off the back walls
of thought
like silver bullets
piercing into
the chaos
wounding
self expression
and killing the art
with a silent tongue
quiet
always quiet
fearful
that those watchful
will criticise
what another
heart desires
gnawing
I feel it gnawing
in the back of
my throat
like a dry cough
it clutches
and remains
stuck in the barrel
indecisive
finger on the trigger
of hope
quiet
always quiet...
Shay











