Prickled Words

Poetry on Odyssey: "Prickled Words"

And I'm not a "flower," no matter how much I lay claim.

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It's barbed and bloody,

When those words inch

Towards the tip of my tongue,

But I hold tight to pain,


Biting down leaves nothing to gain,

A siren's only heard

In visions of reigne,

And I'm not a "flower," no matter how much I lay claim.


An absence of heart may be to blame,

Because I lead those sailors

To a stony graves

Even if my harmonies remain unheard


I destroy those bound to unfurled anchors,

Because I fear what lies beyond the horizon

Unsure of the land that I'll reach.

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