sound;

November 29, 2017
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i want to rip out
my vocal chords
and admire the words
that come pouring.
but they never come out nice enough
or right enough
they’re always mangled and twisted.
they overflow
they spill
they are the definition of ‘messy’.

i spend my time rearranging every
wrinkled letter. every
piece of each puzzle,
so maybe i can
speak symphonies,
something beautiful,
something that everyone would be
pleased
to hear.






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