My mouth is shut yet the words flow

like crushed diamonds flowing

over the edge of a winter’s cascade,

the avalanche of all that you have sowed,

scattered to the winds in an attempt

to confound and confuse the issue

all dealt with a sneer, the face of a person

who believes themselves to be a God

to dictate to a lesser mortal

what they must say in praise magnificence…

 

You are not a God, a divine spirit of spoken word

and I am not your doll to do your bidding,