I could talk for a million eternites

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I could talk for a million eternities,
And still not even scratch the surface
Of how awful I feel, living in a world
Where my breath of life dies to save my poison.

I could talk until my tongue falls out
I'd pick it right back up, and keep going
The words circling around,
Saying everything and nothing all at once.

I would talk forever.
But even if I scream, no words will be heard.

So instead of taking I write.
I write and I write and I write.
So that my words love past me.
They say what I cannot.
For a billion of eternities my words live on
And maybe they can be a sharp enough blade
To at least scratch the surface.

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