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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