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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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