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Old Words

A quick poem about words in the past.

By Silver Serpent BooksPublished about a month ago 1 min read
Old Words
Photo by Connor Olson on Unsplash

The words stick to my ribs.

They glue my diaphragm to exhaled lungs.

Breath won't come.


They fill my stomach with acid.

I can't vomit them up, can't move them through.

They rot inside my guts.


The words are old

But festering wounds do not clean themselves with time.

They devour, they kill.


These words are killing me then.

They are wrapping delicate hands around my throat

And squeezing.


The words have gone fuzzy though

And I cannot tell if it is because I am losing my mind

Or if I am finally succumbing to them.

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About the Creator

Silver Serpent Books

Writer. Interested in all the rocks people have forgotten to turn over. There are whole worlds under there, you know. Dark ones too, even better.

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Comments (3)

  • Real Poetic27 days ago

    So sad and powerful.

  • D. J. Reddallabout a month ago

    Potent language about the potency of language!

  • D.K. Shepardabout a month ago

    Woah! I felt the pain and discomfort of this line so strongly “They glue my diaphragm to exhaled lungs”. Words are so powerful and you really captured their lasting impact in this

Silver Serpent BooksWritten by Silver Serpent Books

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