I am a closed mouth in a land
which flows with promises.
I am cold iron in your warm hands,
broken in silver pieces.

You are the food I cannot eat,
the word I cannot speak.
My hollow body fell at your feet,
the bread they did not break.

I have torn my flesh, eaten my tongue,
tasted my silence.
The price of blood is my song,
my lips spit out your kindness.

The jaws of hell are gaping in anger,
may they eat me whole.
The rope is better than the hunger
that gnaws the soul.

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