On the inner walls of my lungs are layers and layers of words
Because my mind couldn't fit them all.
Everytime I breath,
Erosion wears away the words I can't dare to let escape my mouth,
And the words fall to the bottom of my lungs.
They can't just sit there, though.
My whole body is full of art,
And I can't waste an inch of space that
Could be decorated with the beautiful stars
Of my thoughts.
- (m.m)