Poem: Screaming Words into the Void

I am tired
of screaming
into the void.

Words branded
red hot as I write them
then burn to ashes.

The only one
who reads them
is me.

Write for yourself
they say 
that's all that matters.

But when crickets chirp
when I tell others
the silence is loud.

Perhaps my voice
your worlds, your characters
really don't exist.

And so for a while
all my pen will write
is windswept ash. 

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