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It's strange, I think,
how isolating the truth can be.

So many people believe in the freedom of truth and the peace that comes.

It should come. The peace.

But sometimes it comes in
   
   solitude

When it feels like the world around you
has all turned away
   fallen silent,
      and is waiting for you to
leave the room.

Words have consequences,
we've all been taught.
Even the words of beauty, love, and hope.
Even the words of truth.
The words tattooed on our bodies
and in our minds,
those we speak out loud
and those we just
            can't
                  speak
                         at all.

The reverberation inside my head sings in chorus, all the thoughts that never made it past my lips.

When the heaviness comes-
          and it always comes -
those same words dig themselves out of the graves where I buried them,
deep in the dark of my forgotten memories.
Only, they were never forgotten.

Not really.

And just like that, they're back,
and I find myself pouring them out in ink and fiber and never bone and blood.
©azerinm