A mouth of words, a heart filled
with colorful strings knotted, jumbled;
I'm not qualified to unravel them.
Sometimes the sound of bees
makes more sense than poems
or the oration of sciences.
A belly growling for food,
a foot tapping beneath a table,
the sore spot squeaking between
the ribs like loose coils
of a bed- educate the masses
without certificates of wisdom.
I'm tired of hoping to sound
beautiful while effortlessly silence
and what fills it is far more