My verbiage

Is volatile.

Stunted in my silence

The only words finding freedom

Are the ones hear

Before my beatings.

Accusatory sentence structures

Programmed deep in my brain meat.

Neural pathways to rewrite

If only practice was in sight.

Instead I’m stuck in my head

Only able to burst forth

Once defensive measures are in order

I guess it’s better than folding?

Yet still this ill isn’t me.

Regardless, it’s represented me

Ages spent

Angling this raging rhetoric….

Because justice has missed entirely.

Internally exhausted….

Extreme explosive example

Denied

If only rewriting were so naturally gained

As that pain.

All I know is alone

Hasn’t changed a thing.

A dangerous game played

Engagement from scar tissue’s space.

Yet, this mess is a must.

The challenge of change

Charging a whole new being.

What’s next?

Better bet

A rising.