the words push at her fingertips

begging her to let them out

to stretch them out on paper

in bloody ink across the pages


from the depths beyond her heart

the echo’s rhythmic chorus

chafes like sandpaper

letter by letter

until the words are no more


an new uprising

words crawl out

to the line where her lips

become dry

mutely screaming


to be spoken into existence


the parched landscape

spreads under and past

until at last she nervously

sips at her water

and the words swirl back

into the hollow


the echo laughs





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