‘Mumble,

‘Mumble,

I Wait and seek for my words

as they come not easily I’m afraid to show

you my pain within.

To whittle and linger,

I wait for the time of right

as they feel like thoughts of sin.

My precious desire of beauty

I prolong thee as I’m a misfit

whom is terrified so easily thin.

For I have been,

to believe from the begin,

there should not be these words under my skin.

To hear while I wait I seek not for my enemy

as they enclose my soul

they reach for my mind, but to only be known for when.

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