Lines Wrote Upon My WristPoeticT
of my needing to explain...
Unrecognizable syllables of
That I read upon everyday.
Ink so fresh when spelt out,
filtering my emotions.
Dripping down this slightly torn page.
Will I ever just put a line down this
repetition of unspoken
words wishing to bleed silently out.
If I write that last lyric, it will sing
wet upon this page.
Of sorrows voice, silently spoken, now vacant.
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