For a million words I erase,
Fore I wrote one,
I wonder,
How many stories I let fade,
How many heartbeats I let skip,
Denying the words of hate,
Embracing the horizons that love promised,
It’s hard once you are addicted,
For you will keep chasing the absolute,
Only to find,
That this chase is all there is,
And the wilderness you often talk of,
Is us,
Not around us,
Not within,
But us, itself,
For a million letters I’d let go of,
Fore I wrote one,
I wonder,
How many unsung ballads brewed,
Before I banished them to be banes,
With a promise,
Before I break,
I will finish that story,
Sewn with the syllables I sold to Satan,
Only then,
I’d sigh my last sigh.

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