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Word’s Noose

The words which once felt like a relief,

Are today holding me by the noose,

Because I don’t know how often they have,

Hurt the ones without giving me a clue.

So, now I wonder what,

To write and not,

Or if I should ever consider,

Writing poems is another thought.

For if words can break something beautiful,

Then words should I never speak,

For there’s no bigger regret than,

Hurting the ones you want to keep.

 
 
 

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