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Words

follow your heart
they say,
but they’ve never seen
the way
rose petals fell
on your cold empty grave
that dark November.

trust in your heart
they whisper,
but they don’t know
what it’s like
when your mind has always been
the leader.

things happen for a reason
they explain,
but they never felt
all your pain
as you laid there,
still,
cold and alone.

the things that they whisper
those words all strung together,
carelessly,
mean nothing
when you died
wordlessly.





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