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Words
Their whispers ring.
They say, cold.
She is cold.
She has
no blood running
behind her white
cheeks. And I say,
yes. I have no blood
to give. All color
is drained from me.
And they say, heartless.
Her eyes are
perpetually dry. No
one has ever seen
her cry, and I say,
yes, I have no tears
to shed, they are
gone from me.
And persistently
they scream,
She is silent.
She has never spoken
a single word. She is
weak, she has
no voice.
And I say, no.
My voice is loud,
you are just deaf to it.
My voice cries
through written word.
My veins are dry
because my pen
takes all of me,
and leaves nothing
unwritten. I do not
cry human tears
because ink can
overpower them. Words
bear my emotion better
than my own body.
I am different
because I chose
to write instead
of suffering. Pain
cannot contain me
while I am holding
this pen. I do not
belong to this world,
I belong to words.
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