Words

 

I glare at this empty paper, with so many words waiting to pour out.

 Emptiness swallows me whole.

 My own thoughts, tormented.

 Ashamed of her.

 I

 The filth who types these letters.

 These words.

 Incapable.

 Disgusted.

 Me.

 A shattered piece of glass,

 Crumbled for life.

 No longer will this empty paper be my shelter.

 These words.

 No longer shall I walk its path.

 Its solution of escape.

 My lost thoughts, are my unspoken words.

 Trapped.

 Deceased.

 I glare upon this empty paper

 Waiting.

 For my words to be discovered.

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