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Feb 2016
my mouth mechanically moves
i wonder how many times i have said the same sentence in the last half hour
as those recycled, rearranged letters
squeak, tired, from the middle of my throat
a laugh, fake, tense, comes from my nose
as i feel what little soul there was in me to begin with
this can't be it
this can't be all there is
the helpless thoughts slide sluggishly by
what is the point of surviving so much
when this is all i have to look forward to?
Cain Arkay Lazarus
Written by
Cain Arkay Lazarus  25/Genderqueer/California
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