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Talk it Out
Talk it out.
That’s what you always do,
And what I always help you with--
The difference is
I’m not the talker,
more the listener.
I never open up my mouth
but to share my words of wisdom,
or helpful sympathy-
I never had to share my own sadness,
or
worries.
It was strange to me,
You must expect,
when I was the one talking-
I didn’t know what I was doing
until you guided me like walking.
Words mumbled,
or whispered
or only simply stated-
It’s funny for a writer to say
how do I express my feelings?
But soon I got the hang of it,
and words tumbled from my lips.
I may not have talked much,
but just enough for you to see
and heal with soothing sound-
Your own words filled me up inside
and pound
and pound
and pounded
out the Sorrow
that had been breeding there-
It was a miracle,
Or the closest that I’ve come.
Then I learned that words are healing,
When once I thought they came undone
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Be persistent when you have something to say, or seem to have nothing to say. Sometimes the best cure to sadness is talking even when it's nonsense.