My Words

My words on paper
simply meek for a ponder
discarded, unused by souls who may never come across my blank thunder
a roar of gentle harmonies
my pennies strewn across the page

The split between a reality of letters and my own
distant from life, for reasons unknown
a leech to limited blood, my solitary pen leaks my insides
when the words type themselves for the kindnesses of men
to oppose the villainous worlds that manifest from within

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