Plot dug up,
spitting words in it,
harmlful sentiments I'd hoped would go away
but didn't.
They fester, faster than I could have imagined,
painting pictagrams of your face.
Pointlessly fastened to my lips
as if I could ever bring myself
to tell you any of this
even if it were real.
Without thought, without talent.
Simple existance, so easily missed.
I've witnessed it, felt it.
Hated it and loved it.
I've been on both sides of every coin,
and the bills left paper cut
scars on my brain, where a nerve is beating
pumping messages to my ribcage,
pumping blood to my fingers
as I write this down.
Nobody can stop me,
not even you.
Not even me.
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