A tremor shakes the vessels in my head
tightening around my skull until the water
drops from my eyes
and a ghost takes host of me.
My brown skin turns to cream
my lips too tight,
they turn a pale white.
I’ve cut off all blood flow.
Tongue is tied – trying not to offend
so I bend and keep it all in –
inside my chest my heart thumps
so loudly it could keep time for a band
I’ve no choice but to write it down
if it’s not out I cannot over come
this ghost of a person I become
To be heard,
to express, to de-stress in word,
to communicate my dissatisfaction here
rather than an oral reaction
This is why I write—
to lock up my demons.