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The Tango

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Staring at the word fling rapidly out of my mouth, I try to catch the words as they come out in the wrong order. My intention is to place them in a reasonable sentance; but they cut my hands because they are angry words.
I hear their speed, they're out of control!
tastingthem changing direction, changing meaning is so sweet.
But they have that sad, depressing taste, which is an aftertaste of the anger.
These words haunt my once controlled
thoughts.
i can see them spinning round and round in a never ending endingcycle.
A cycle of never ending ups and downs, unpredictable and jumbled.
Grabbing at my worldsas they race past my face.
i cannot keep up with these words, they're out to get me!
How can I change these impulsive words? I can't!
So I spew out far too many apoligies amoung the rapid flow of words.
I am told to stop saying "sorry". That seems imposible!
So this is how the story ends...or doesn't end.
It results with this: a never ending tango with words.





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