Stringing together syllables
You don't feel. You cannot find letters
That mean what you feel
Inside. Your mind feels crowded
Noisy, like a subway station
As the train rushes steaming and blowing
To the next stop.
Sometimes words don't come
And you feel empty
A misty moor in the dead of night
No light or life.
Sometimes the words fail
And you resort to
Pictures.
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