she’s busy keeping it to herself, a corpse with lips sewn shut to hold the secrets of the dead, she keeps it tucked inside her rotting head, letting the scourge of unspoken truths devour happiness and satisfaction. there’s a chemical reaction between the neurons of the quiet clinging tight to feelings undesired, that makes them bubble and expire like she will most likely do, though timing is essential and she’s all so regimental that deaths knocking can only be heard when she wants it to. ill bite my tongue in cheek, or cut it out to kill temptations grip over my mouths greater functions. but its drilling through her skull these things she’s keeping to herself and it eats its way through her soul until there’s nothing left, and soon these things she’s keeping to herself will leave her with nothing but a shell. there’s no girl who dwells inside those walls just the secrets shes imposed that leave her bereft and without a home.