PoemsBrowse PoemsSlamsFresh DropEchoes
LearnWriting TipsPoetry TermsPoets & ArtistsBooksFor Teachers
ExplorePoetry GenomePoem MapEchoesTake ActionGroups
AboutWrite a PoemDonateSign UpLog In

Elocution


I don’t know what to think. All the words are here but I just have to reassemble them. They keep moving all around me so it’s find it hard to grasp onto a single idea. They bite sometimes, words do, quite the bitchy personalities if you get to know one personally. I wouldn't invite them over for tea if I were you. They steal people's hats, have a fetish for ‘em I guess. Trust me, I know, because my hat's been lost for a few months and I don't have any high hopes of it returning. Words don't care how they affect people. You could just be sitting on your toilet taking a shit and out of nowhere a word will sting you in the ass. Like kindergarten. It'll bring back all these feelings you thought you'd forgotten. Then you'll cry and take a walk down fucking memory lane as if memory lane needs any of your walking.

©All Rights Reserved

Something wrong with this poem?

Share

Replies are closed for this poem.

Your Poem's Voice

See what makes your poem unique — its voice, energy, themes, and the literary traditions it draws from.

Comments (1)

truckyeah
<p>GET IT....... that was very blunt, but hey whatever works. im sure youd like some of my work that ive yet put up. i didnt know you could cuss so much on this site.</p>

Log in to leave a comment.