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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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