analyzing
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I'm like a child who cries itself to sleep,
but instead of crying, what I do is think.
I think myself insane, analyzing every bit,
until my heart rate quickens and I work up a panicking fit.
Don’t take my words
And put them on a table.
And cut them open
Like a corpse
That is being dissected.
My words are not dead
They are very much alive.
But they require
Your imagination
