This madness crawls inside my head,
this ugliness leaves my words unsaid,
this emptiness makes me cling in dread
to the shadows of the living dead.
It has left me bereft
to stand up and be seen,
to rise above myself and walk,
to happily live my dream.
Would I be happier if words were silent?
Would I be saner if hurt had no voice?
Would the world be silent if I made no sound?
Would the world be voiceless if I made the choice to sacrifice my art,
to stop my words from spilling out of my barren soul onto this guiltless paper?
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