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I want to write but have no words.
I want to grow but have no goals.
I want to rip the stagnation from this skin.
But i don't have the muscle.

I want to sigh but instead i hold my breath.
I want to unlearn but i can't.
I want a clean slate from all the scars that i chiseled.
But that's just not how it works.

I want my mind to be free from what it can't escape.
I want my steps to be my own instead of this fate.
I want this couch cushion next to me to not sit empty.
I now sigh more often than i speak.

I guess all my wanting does say something.
Besides the feeling it seems I'm not ready to give up.
I keep putting on these jackets.
Chain smoking half packs just to go inside and wonder why I'm not back out there with the rain again.

I wonder why i can't be held.
But I'm so tired of self deprivation so i just sigh, "oh well."
But doing so just kills me.
What other option do i have?

I want to silence the words I'm desperate to unleash.
I want them to stop taking over everything.
I want my actions to be self defining.
Well there we go, there's a goal.

I want a space to be my own.
I just want a space to be my own.
Where i wouldn't have to hold so much inside.
Where doing so would still remain unseen.

I want my joyous isolation.
Rather than my plain sight hidden masks.
I want a place where i can sit with the doors open.
I want alot, too much to ask.
Written by DCLXVI_1989 (Garrett Asa Hughes)
Published
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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