Nothing to say.


Words desert me
As thoughts once did
As feelings once did
As contentment once did
 
Noting to say that I haven’t already said
Nothing at all that is new
I bore myself to death
Till death unkindly bores me too.
 
Fingers randomly linger
On letters so meaningless
I hate that I have no purpose
I love that I am too slothful to care
 
I can’t write.
 
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