Stitch-lips

A new poem

Stitch-lips,
I'd shout,
Burst my lungs,
If not for fear of tearing flesh,
Of scars.

Grit my teeth,
Crack the gums,
And cage the voice,
The passion roar,
Burning screams.

One day i'll rip,
And split my skin,
Spit my blood across the walls,
And in the eyes,
My true colours.

But as I stretch,
The stitches pull,
And pierce my head,
With thoughts of my repulsive blood,
I'll drown in it.

I can't let vessels burst,
Or choke on Truths,
Only sit behind mirrors,
Mutter under my breath,
Stitch-lips.