Dead Flies
Words are complicated.
often I find myself wanting to explain,
The troubles I'm going through,
The troubles your a part of.
I often want to understand,
I often want to explain,
What it is you do to me.
But all I manage,
Is a mouth full of flies.
Dead flies.
Dead-
Dead-
Dead -
Flies.
I'm choking on death,
In the happiest form.
I'm choking on freedom,
That gets ripped away.
I'm choking on all the possibilities,
That get squashed ,
By the title of a short life.
I am choking on flies,
I named one after you.
Others did as well.
But you named most
After me.
I am suffocating,
on dead versions of myself ,
And that seems right,
Yet so wrong.
Because I do not know,
why ,
these dead flies ,
Fill my mouth.
I do not know,
Who ,
Put them there.
For all I know
It could've been you.
For all I know,
They might not even be there.
For all I know,
We are all ,
Dead flies.
