out into a great nothing
a garble of a million more words
I wonder, as I scream
if anyone is there
anyone to hear me cry
My words are empty
my cries are useless
My thoughts run round themselves
Who am I that anyone would hear?
Who am I that I should beg?
and who am I that I would be rescued?
I am always surprised
Shocked at my own words
I never realize I feel so much
At times I wonder who she is
who I am
that writes these anxious words
I, not she, feel peace and calm,
but she, she is rife with unrest
I must be rid of her!
Then... I find despair dashing wild,
wild across the screen
She, not I, has sent another set of words into oblivion
© copyright by Michèle Aimée Lahaie, 2009
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