The Colonial

Saigon Cinnamon

Caitlin MacCutcheon, Staff Writer

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The words I swallow burn like Saigon cinnamon
But when you speak them
They are as sweet as apple pie.
These words are private for me
And scratch at my throat
For you, they soar and they fly.

 

To see you go so far
With the words I wanted to say
Pisses me off
And ruins my day

 

Yet I know the words you spoke
Were not true to you
They were my honest lament
My story of how I struggled and grew

 

You knew I would keep quiet
That’s why you targeted me first
To take my life’s story as your own
And exploit my curse

 

I envy your confidence
Blind but so sure
When I try to copy it
I trip
and stumble to the floor

 

Instead, I will use my words,
The ones you tamper with and scream
And turn them around
To take back my dream

 

So you can keep your sweet success,
That favored apple pie
I’ll keep my Saigon cinnamon
Burn and sting forever but won’t have to lie

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About the Writer
Caitlin MacCutcheon, Staff Writer

Caitlin MacCutcheon is a junior and it is her second year writing for The Colonial. Caitlin loves music, poetry, history, art, reading, watching films,...

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Saigon Cinnamon