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What happens when i run out of words?
I am not sure how love works.
I have seen the sunsets and i have prayed for dawns. I have held hands and begged for space.
What is it about this mess that draws me in each and every time? Because i have cried a thousand tears, and laughed until i couldn't breathe and i still don't seem to be able to understand the definitions of joy or sorrow.
Locked up in my tower of thoughts and meanings and unable to break free.
No matter how many seas of emotions and waves of feelings crash on it, it doesn't crumble, it doesn't shake.
How is it that the prison i created for myself feels like the fort protecting me now? Because i have banged on it's walls so many times before, pleading for help, wishing someone could free me or that by some miracle i would free my own self.
And i remember. I remember it like it was yesterday. That day that love sneaked in and painted the walls with colors and hopes. But when it should unlock the door and set me free it decided to keep me there. So now i have to live with unfulfilled dreams between colorful bricks that always remind me of them.
So here i am, my own coloring pallet in hand. All the walls are now black and i fill them with white words, covering up every painful memory and false hope.
Words, sentences, poems and thoughts. One after the other, again and again.
But what happens when I run out of ideas?
What happens when i run out of words?
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