You cannot stifle me,

Though the cotton in my throat insists

In crowding out words.

You cannot blind me,

Though cataracts creep–

Milky tendrils like feet.

You cannot mute my world

As static weaves and pops,

Like kernels on a summer day.

You cannot numb my flesh,

Though it crawls to your touch

And rests when you are warm.

You cannot stifle my tongue,

For the richness of clouds rest

Melting like a creamy kiss.

I will not be overcome by you;

No, I will not be rewritten.

My words, my heart, my bones…

I am my own.