Aug 25, 2010

Losing It

The last strand of the nylon cord.
The breaking point closest to my grip,
Where my palms burn to hold on.

If I pull any tighter,
My words are no longer the voices I scream inside my head to you
They would become hurtful, though impulsive.
I want them to hurt you. These voices.
My alter ego, please loosen your grip.

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