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Rated: E · Other · Other · #1803937
Sometimes I just write because I have to; usually, I like the result.
Nothing. It's a lie you know.
Nothing is never nothing.
It's a death or a heartbreak,
Or just everything.
Of course, of everything,
There's everything to say,
But you have to say something.
So, you say nothing.
When nothing comes from something
Because it's everything,
And you don't know what to say...
You say nothing.
"What did you do today?"

What do you hear?
You say, "nothing."
But it's a lie you know.
You don't hear wind blowing, birds chirping.
You don't hear people.
People talking. People Singing. People Laughing.
Or crying.
You don't hear anything?
You hear silence.
Is silence a something?

You look at a blank page.
What do you see?
You don't see thousands of words,
Waiting to be written.
To be transformed into something,
Not just anything of a something.
A wonderful something.
A beautiful, wonderful, terrible something.
A something of purpose.
A blank almost wonderful something.
You say "nothing."
But it's a lie you know.

What do you think of,
When you think of everything?
A rush of color
A blur of sound
A whirlwind of faces.
What something comes from everything?
You say nothing.
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