tattooed in black,

stitched into the fabric of paper.


unable to escape

their mind jails.


Wanting to be said.

Trying to arrange themselves

in logical order,

within the pen.

Nib scratches out the unvoiced runes,

the words that could not be spoken.

A single sentence

can burn

like fire - 

put salt in unhealed wounds.

The burnt out shell

of what was human,

echos loudest

but screams the least.

The End

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