30.07.23, or unmoving tears and gluten-free beers

[anabypixies]

It's my fault again.
I stretch out my tongue; elastic, so you can bend it and tie it as you please.
I give you the igniting words so you can write the moving eulogy of your martyrdom,
and I sit back and nod.
trading pride for peace until I have nothing left in my sleeve,
but I know you. and you won't hear me anyway.
so I swallow.