Not everyone can be my word collector
Or is deserving of the energy
it takes to string a sentence along.
Not everyone gets to dance
on my lungs to get me to take
a breath.
Not everyone can hear the truth
or gets to decide when I breathe.
Because when the word collector does come,
and stands on the mountain of papers
of words
of fear.
She collects the lies,
the spies,
and then on the mountain, she cries.
The Word Collector’s coming for you.