I sit in my home.
I let the silence grow.
My body was once so hot.
Now I feel cold.
I carve these words in my chest!
Reaching for my soul.
I cut to the quick,
And I chisel the bone.
Shall I feel no more?
As the last poet screamed "Elanor"
I scream and weep forever more.
MY quill is dull.
As are my eyes
The truth falls
As lies fly.
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