With ease I appear to appease you
when I speak
and night after night
bleak sunrise throws the dice of my future
I fear I’m growing mute again
these cycles of fervent entropy
and meager construction
I function with them
without you
only the same
I am tethered to this tongue
which you despise
though less than I
and I grow less than you
have ever known
this is a cry for help
from your favorite broken bone
I am lost and I allow nothing
for solace
I was not wrong
beg me for the answer
hear the rattle of my teeth
I don’t want to prolong
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