Poem – Fill

I admire words that
infect my mind. I want
them to bend and twist
so I feel them. I’ve torn
pages from favorite stories
and stuffed them into my
mouth. I don’t know why.
Or, I do, and I’m not being
honest. Much like when an
author writes for an audience
rather than the raging
passion wishing to be seen;
truly, and finally freed.

-M. Taggart

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