Words intended to be untamed by the jotting down of truths. It’s difficult to configure a real vision when the message doesn’t want to be known. As lines go unread in drafts that somehow define the reason of use. Tucked away like the heart hiding from a worlds eye that dissects every curve expressing any change of hopes. There’s so many ways to write the most sacred pieces of self that feel suppressed . But they’re trapped in thoughts that are unable to be heard. Becoming the silence hushed it’s been so long since the free form of diddles confessed. Oh how the honest tongue wrestles with untold mentions of worth. The wickedness in the inability to configure verbal gesture for sight to see is feared within. Afraid to expose the lingering of what’s been buried deep. It begs to live, to be a topic with substance with much to give. But the irrelevance of the twist just won’t allow me to breathe. Creating a tension beneath the skin that restrains fingers from ever feeling the release. All there is, is a hovering over keys that wait patiently to tell all. And at the point of sitting still letters are never rearranged so uniquely placed side by side with there plead. Simply stuck in an endless pause. Searching for a purpose to share depths ready to explode. Shattered into fragments are dreams that have become foreign to the taste of sound. The thought of it just wants to be left alone. Leaving me to day, this is me now…
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