Release

Finding freedom in speech, not of.

They bite my tongue then fill my mouth and give me no room to mumble
without biting what's left.

My opinion counts as much as my loathing.

I hate "talking." What's the point?

I lose.
Game over.

Only it never was a simple game.
I never had a chance.
I'm boiling over, ready to whistle.
No release from the steam.

It's getting stuffy.

Finneus has his fear. I have my loathing.

Release?

Never, too simple.

I've got too much fuel and it isn't burning fast enough.

I don't wanna explode.

I just might.