Call me your shadow amid the dark
the dank
the putrid smell.
This echo of a memory,
screamed down the halls and found
empty
alone,
my septic wound open, stinking
oozing out what is left of me
to puddle on the floor,
leaking down a drain to nothingness
dripping into your drinking water
poisoning you with my shadow
my dank,
my putrid smell,
a bacteria, growing in your gut
and I
will have my say
some way
if you would just allow me to
instead of sickening you
because I have to,
with ears that are clogged
with the words of other,
with the song and dance
of the mindless
that cannot see
do not hear
the beauty you behold
and you will not
let me show you
for who am I
but the shadow,
the dank,
the putrid smell.

© TheWordPoet