Glued Shut

I open my mouth But the weed inside me shuts it Saying Do you want this? Truly? I try to speak But my weed closes my throat I choke on the words And silence my thoughts The weed was right They were wrong I shouldn't speak The weed gets broken on occasions But it comes back Along with my guilt It mashes into a pulp And glues my mouth shut The words must have been wrong Why else would the weed choke me? So I shut my mouth Glued it shut And let the weed grow Because even though I hate the weed It is a part of me And hating the weed means hating myself And I can't go that low So it stays And I slowly get consumed by the weed If I cut it I cut myself off I feel like I am in the clear But the roots of the weed remain And the roots feel like my only shred of sense left So I wait I nurture the weed Not because I like it But because if it is gone A part of me is too So it grows And I stay silent For I would rather remain whole with one bad part Than be partially gone and happy Because happy cannot last When the weed still remains