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I am nothing this noc

A rare disturbance

A human coil of turmoil

No one ever loved

They just whipped

A human cigarette butt

Burned up

Tossed away

I feel like a blank page

No words to scratch

Just crooked lines to scribble

Blood-spent quill

Scratching emptiness

Yet a rage inside

To be comatose

In a world on overdose

To be unfelt

To be unmatterable

To be but a thorn in someone’s eye

That is I

This warm noc.