My lips are
pursed.
The storms are
brewing.
I feel contempt
For things that
others
Deem
acceptable.
If I open my
mouth
To express
myself,
All hell will
break loose.
Is it worth the
turmoil
And heartache
For only a few
minutes gratification?
Nothing I say
Will make a
change.
My breath is
spent,
Yet it is
wasted.
As precious as
breath can be
Who gave me the
right to throw it away?
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