they're still churning and living is like wading in waters that want to rip
tide and pull me under.
they are just words, no matter.
it's just, it's just,
i desire to be finished with such delicate ways of speaking in whispers. so often, there is more silence than truth in my speech. rather, allow me to be forthright.
i stay away at night, angry, hurting.
yes, i am angry and i am hurting.
(irreconcilable differences craving reconciliation, craving to give a cracksmack in the face)
(ohhhh, it's been hard on me, it's only feeling, but.)
these are just rambles from a child in a certain broken state of being.
goodnight.
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