To whom do I speak when my life says the word...
The word of pain, of sorrow, of complex strategy and exit.
To whom do I speak when I say words to calm...
To calm the story of us; acidic to touch, insolent to tongue - you wretch.
How dare you come hither feigning for draught, denying what I have spoke -
But farewell compliment - dost though loathe me?
Dost though loathe me as I loathe you?
Unraveled and bare in the moonlight you fleck - discarded skin into the night sky.
"There is nothing inside but fear and disgust." and that to you means I am lost.
Raving and chanting, you will return to the dust;
tiny particles of waste matter spinning through the air.
To dust as those who came before from whom you seek your providence.
But providence is a long ways away and you will not return...to dust.
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