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Words Are Knives
Words are knives, that pierce my skin
They fly so fast and find a way in.
Superfluous flow. They don’t think I know
Only because it doesn’t show.
Smother my soul and raise the flag
I escape in a dream, I drop and I drag
Unconscious state. I carry my weight
The heaviness returns and it’s too late.
Comfortably on edge in a small metal box
The world runs wild while I’m laden with locks.
The ink drips in. I cannot win.
The veil becomes increasingly thin.
The guilt is a wildfire that catches up to me.
Should I lay down and let go or jump up and flee?
I am a match. I lift the latch
And free myself for I will catch.
I attend the daily masquerade in fear of being seen
I squeeze my way through the crowd and slip right in between.
So unreal. That’s how it feels.
Let’s wait until this injury heals.