the ulcer buried deep within

a cry for help is a blister on the tongue,

pulsating with every breath you take

an ulcer will grow and swallow your very being,

you will scream, 

you will shout but no one will hear - no one can.

Your lingual frenulum is amplifying at triple the rate that sound could possibly comprehend,

now, everything is out of your control

because, you are forever and, permanently stuck in the endless loop

of loneliness 

you shall beg

- which you will

you shall plead

- which you do

but what is it all for?

why do you continue to try?

the value you place in this fragile state is,

alarming?

what a shame you crumble at the meer caress of fear

for such value that you hold in your heart of all hearts 

is worthless when one cannot even speak

what gives you the right? do you think

what makes you believe that you can.

I assure you now from the deepest of truths

that as you weep the crowd parades

cry, 

I dare you

cry,

I implore you

I will drink each drop that leaks from your eyes

and dance the salt remanence around my tongue;

cry,

and no one will help you.

because your cries are as useful to Me as a blunt spade

dig out your sorrows-

learn to suppress that weakness

bury them with the very essence of you

bury them with the pity that you so desperately seek

your blunt spade state of living is exhausting yet

you will forever continue to dig.

no one will remember your efforts, in fact

no one will even try

as you fade from existence,

in your poor excuse of a hole

remember, just

one thing

it was always Me who told you, who warned you that you would fail

as the hole you dug is filled with ulcer

I suggest you swallow your pride

for your last breath to remember

should be one that keeps you-

Written by (anonymous).