The words that stain my consciousness,
Are more than I can stand.
They drain me out like all the rest,
I sink into the deep quicksand.

They drag me down,
And tear me up,
And beat me round,
And round so rough.

The words take all that I can be,
I don’t understand how or why,
They mask my eyes, I cannot see,
Why they say to die.

They bring their guns,
To sword fights,
I’m told to run,
And run I might.

The words make me move,
Make me run faster than I know,
Always running, that’s all I do,
But they rise up again like snow.

Running won’t do much to help,
The sorrowfulness inside,
It won’t cure the empty yelp,
That comes from in my mind.

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