i have empty empty hands
so i'll fill them
with pens and books and things to paint
and the ears no one whispers in,
i'll fill with songs
or silence
or the sound of my own endless stories
and in my cold and straight-faced pride
I will show those who walk away how
emotionless
i can be
how happy my hands can be to settle for pens
and how well my ears adjust to
silence
and how beautiful the mirror and the window may find
the patterns and fabrics i hide in
goodnight to the mirror and window
the song and the pen
i brush my own hair aside from my eyes
and i sing my own lullabies
i know it's all part of the pride, but in my mind behind closed lids,
I am the one walking away
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