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Pretend

You pretend it doesn't hurt you
But it does

Every day
Every minute
Every breath

The vast emptiness of the future threatens
To consume your present
Leaving you an empty, dried out husk
Where once there was
A person

And you pretend it doesn't hurt you
But it does

You search for distractions in
Writing silly poems
Filling days with trivialities
Banalities
Fruitlessness

Wanting to scream all the time
But sound cannot be made in a vacuum
Which is what your soul has become

Pretending it doesn't hurt you
But it does

And you go on breathing
Because what else is there?
Existence, subsistence, continuance
You live
That is all.

Pretending it doesn't hurt you
But it does

A paper cut
A pin prick
The hurt, the pain, the sorrow, the
Regret

The wonder, the fear, the despair
Cumulative
(from the Latin cumulus, meaning mass)

And the crushing weight of the
World of Expectations
Frustrations
Blighted hopes
Empty promises, meaningless

You pretend it doesn't hurt you
But it does


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