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attention is not medicine.

she might double up tonight.
send her fears out of sight.
breathe with her dreams that shine to the extent of the numbness in her head.
where the darkness comes short of dead and the light is alive again.
she is a soldier without a battle.
a scream without a mouth.
she finds worry in a hurry and fights forever to drown them out.
but the words still exist,
written like a script in plain view.
surprised eyes rip it in two.
judge and abuse.
but she wants them to see.
she wants to be heard, she wants them to believe.
i just want to be me.
she smiles at their alarmed faces.
laughs with their pity embraces.
but
if she is so glad,
then why does everything i write still seem sad?



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