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Gecko Therian

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

3 poems·Since May 2016

16 year old poet from Boise, Idaho Most of my poems are meant to be spoken word Small lesbian who uses too many words-

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Three Wise Monkeys

May 9, 2016

We like to pretend that we're the three wise monkeys,

We pretend to be blind,

We turn a blind eye to evil,

We pretend that we're blind and that it never happened,

We pretend that we’re deaf,

That the evil never breaches our ears,

That it goes unnoticed like a whisper on a crowded train,

We like to pretend we're the three wise monkeys,

We like to pretend,

But there's one thing that we cannot do,

And the one thing that we cannot do is we cannot pretend that we speak no evil,

Because we must open our mouths and let the evil within us drain from our mouths like black ink,

Consuming everything it touches,

Leaving only rot behind,,

Dripping from our mouths and cascading down our faces in a waterfall of darkness,

Until it creates a pool of shadow on the ground that swallows everything it touches

We like to tear ourselves open and spew the evil that we hold within ourselves upon others

Until they just as black as we are,

Our tongues sit coiled in our mouths,

Poised like a serpent,

Ready to strike at anything that comes too close,

Our words are like black tentacles,

Lashing out at others,

Holding them tight until they drown in the ink that we vomit onto them,

We like to pretend that we're the three wise monkeys,

We pretend that we're blind or deaf,

We like to pretend,

But we cannot,

Will not be mute

Because we cannot stand to keep the evil within ourselves, to ourselves,

We have to bring others down with us with our words,

Because we cannot stand to fall alone,

Our words are like venom,

When we speak we sink our teeth into their veins and let our venom poison infect them,

We watch as their skin turns black and blue and they crumble before us,

Our words are like acid,

burning holes through hope and happiness,

Leaving nothing but an empty sadness behind,

The same empty sadness that was carved into us by someone else's acid,

Our tongues are sharp,

And though we may see no evil and we may hear no evil,

We speak our evil to the world

But maybe,

Just maybe,

We should pretend that we're mute.

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