November 9th, Year of the Corpse

Where others see possibility, I see betrayal. I have stood in an empty space, where nothing has ever existed before. Some would build, while I search for something to build into myself. I study everything I see, but find nothing that resonates with me. Every word stretches itself out to lines that lead nowhere. Every noise overlaps, creating chaos.

Everything that is beautiful is useless. I am not beautiful, yet do not know my use.

I say I do not need validation from men, but go through great lengths to receive it. I say I do not need my mother’s approval, but feel the bruising in my heart when she looks through me. I say so many things that contain no weight, no truth, and no meaning.

There is little to be said about a person whose hands have rarely bled. But I say, I never knew what to hold. I say, I have wanted to work my way through something, but the wall was hot to the touch. The day was too cold for exploration. I could not afford an error, as I already found myself in poverty.

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November 9th, Year of the Corpse

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