there is a poem inside of me
trapped within my rib cage
an empty pocket of unused metaphors
that cannot be tamed by words.
I want to be a lioness, fearless and
but my hands still shake
and my voice still quivers
and the poem inside of me
is wild and uninhibited.
I am swimming in words I cannot express
shoreless in a vast sea of
I wish I were a poet,
someone able to translate the language inside
into a sequence of letters and spaces
that another can understand, and
there is a storm inside of me
that people cannot bear.
I’ve yet to learn how to control the rain
or the lightning, or the winds;
and the lone explorer, journeying on
is beat down, time after time,
a victim of my never-ending
You lose, anon.