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Then There Was Me

Muted Words

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The courage it takes to reach within your emptiness and touch the words, their absolute lines, the darkness of their typeset and whisper them out loud.
Their muted solitary sounds feebly reach the pages of the world which absorbs its ever definitive blackness of its ever drying blot of ink. Your stamp upon this world.
You follow, trailing your words to take them back to refuge, back into your emptiness. From your lips they were snatched, misconstrued, denied, terrified, mangled, and deformed.
Your words are barely recognizable. . . A line is drawn. ..their words are very pronounced, insensitive, lacking. Their words are a process, a gesture towards muting yours.
You are ” A victim,they say.
” A Victim, A VIctim, A VICtim, A VICTim, A VICTIm.
A VICTIM.
Their words do not come from emptiness, but ignorance.
Their words become ever so harsh, their words encrusted in the ink of the world. Ultimatums ensue, bullying tactics operational.
The stillness of your stance shocks you, as you no longer trail after your words. How could you, as they are no longer there. Your stamp is fading, your resignation no longer evading.
You turn ever so slightly to retreat, so tired of being beat. Inside you, you emptiness solidifies, makes you try. ..You twist and turn towards them, scuffling your foot over the line that separates you from them.
” There are no absolutes,” you say. It is NEVER this or that. After all, words are just words if coming from an individual who says them without presence.

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