The Choicest Words

How much pain burns under our skins

When we cannot repent for our sins?

 

A thousand hyperbolic images could not express

The distress we each to ourselves need to confess

 

How much hurt pours into the world

When our souls are unfurled?

 

No self-consistent paradox could help us reconcile

The sadness in our smile

 

How much grief runs through our dreams

When nothing is as it seems?

 

The choicest words could not describe

The anguish to which daily we subscribe

 

 

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