Keeping the Peace

The stomach roils and churns,

like a giant mixer,

it turns and twists the gut:

bread dough on a hook.

Bitter thoughts burn,

inching upwards~

acid on the back of the tongue.

Words choked,

stuck in the throat.

Eyes tear with the effort,

to stay silent~

soul screams in protest,

authenticity lost in translation.

© annettealaine-2013

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