Like a Pallet of Paint to Bedeck a barren canvas with Depths otherwise Unknown,
Stand Ready to unmask me.
Call I then upon their Potent Power to Speak for me in Tongues
I would otherwise be ignorant of, and let them Spill Out in Endless Fashion
That, by some means as I may be incapable of,
Tell the Secret Truth about my Heart of Hearts.
Listen, then, with an Attent ear so each word may Fulfill its Purpose.
Give over the Admiration of an accusing mind to the Power of these pawns,
Which now I use so grossly to Unfold myself
And Muse upon this Dilemma, so Beguiling of nature.
There is a numbing silence,
Which Parades around the Inmost parts of me.
An Acquiescence of Spirit that, at times, threatens to Undo me.
Murderous and Suffocating in its heaviness of burden,
Pain taunts my every fiber.
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