Suffering the Snakebite

had a good reaction from writers on Myspace, so I wanted to test it here...

I did not know words could burn-
hiss under my skin and bury their poison there,
where it could not be extracted.

Crouching inside me like toads, these
cruelties take a personal form, my form
a reflection born of doubt and grief.

It grows arms, legs, a mind and soon sits
upon my shoulder, slithering
lies into my ear that wriggle in, settle with my skull.

These reflections speak up when I need silence the most,
tripping my capable feet and making my voice
strain against the notes as I try to prove myself,

all over again.

And they think I am incompetent,
because I am made of nerves. 

Author's Note

I love this poem....so be mean with it. be brutal

Reviews

[Krista Laraine]

I picked this one at random, since you critiqued two of mine. This one was very good, and the spelling all correct. No distractions. I didn't care for the toads reference, it took away from the snaking image. The rest was good and I think the last two lines were very strong, a good finish.

[John Braswell]

I remember being told: they're only words and words can't hurt you. People used to believe the world was flat too. Both were wrong.
Good read

[Emily B]

Yes. I like it very much. I don't know that it needs anything.