My voice is tied up,
My body is silenced.
The question marks are inverted,
Thoughts down the drain.

But voices, I hear.
Words to breakfree,
To sketch question marks,
Groom blossoming thoughts.

This stage is a warzone,
The war against the puppet strings around my neck,
never ending.
I pull it loose, it snaps back.

The constraint is my breath,
The key is a sprint.
A sprint not to here or there,
But right into this heart.