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No more words. No more desire. Cold, icy heart, only casting shadows. No more inspiration. No passion to explain. Soul-sick sentiment, is all that remains. My heart has turned cold, like a pillar of stone, unable to be penetrated, I'll always be alone. Yet, this paper sits before me, unblemished, white and crisp. My pen cuts scars upon it, leaving wounds in it's abyss. Copyright@Heather Johnson 2000 |
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| NO MORE WORDS |