Cracked

*

I forget sometimes, how it felt to be alive
When these fingers start to twitch,
And find no solace in their empty palms.

We bled to remember.
Bright red reminders,
But these children o’ mine shall go unheard.

These words shake in the tips of my fingers,
These words, they brim on the edge of my lips.
This tongue is disobedient
And it clicks on a cracked and joyless smile.