You will want
to cry aloud
for your mistakes,
to scream your sorrow
at the still dark sun,
but the world doesn’t need
any more of that sound.
Listen, can’t you hear the
cacophony?
But if you must,
when your lips are
bloodied from the biting,
and you can no longer
swallow the sting,
go by yourself
into the desert.
Find the place where
rocks and water weave
across the barren soil,
and drip with despair
until you are dry once more.
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