《better left unsaid》a short poem

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shorter.

shorter.

shorter.

you know what? just don't say anything at all, it's not like they're listening anyway. they'll watch you breath, oxygen travelling from your lungs to your throat as you speak then they'll inch their ways into your life pretending as if it is theirs, pretending as if you're crystal clear, but they are not listening. they are uninterested in you and your stretched out paragraphs that you pour your heart into, they want the papier-mâché doll, who is every bad word in the dictionary, as well as silent.

you are in their light now.

you are now their quiet papier-mâché doll.

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