I speak
But I have
No tongue
It has been torn
Ripped from me
As a lace is pulled
From a shoe
I was tongue tied
A pretty bow
I could walk
But no more
I stumble
And stutter
As one could stutter
With a smile
On my face
Gleaming teeth
Like garnets
Too little too late
Smile
Hello
Lips stretched
Over clenched bone
Pearls dyed
Pretty
Words flow
Like ink down my chin
But only
I know the
Language
My neck is the canvas
Jackson Pollock
Would be proud