Attempted to do a mini poem for every word for the Sunday wordle but my inspiration ran dry

Admit – A word that permits confession
               as if words are solid
               with mere flicks of the tongue
               that could cleanse our dirty ought not to do’s
               and what for but for redemption?

Flicks –   A scar picked with the bend of words cursed
              felt as if no other world exists
              outside of their narrative

Scar – The stream that flows through
             a rugged landscape
             with all its liquid cruelty chiselling
             us into formation
             sharp as an axe after transformation

Remember – Scars leave traceable tracks
                        of remembrance
                        faces fade but what was felt remains

Dirty – Earthing oneself as if we became some other
             cleansing in the soil to remember
             the dust that made us 

Hear – This pseudoforest sings your rite of passage
             crows scalding you, your disturbance
             of the rains tumult percussion.

It was with a cruel flickering
that a hunch lurched itself into my brain
it would stalk my footsteps
as I receded away from the monsoon
that made itself heard with a thud
as the lines wound tighter on my face
I ran on impulse
running through the empty streets
looking for a place to let this kinetic energy out
with a sigh

But it won’t be enough