Words, perfect words so sweet at first. Like a ripe cherry, when bit, would burst. Every turned page a twist, a turn. These words, this chat, takes on an ugly churn. What once felt soft like butter. Feels now, like a sharpened glass cutter. These words, this chat, that tears your swollen heart. Like a paper shredder, you come apart. Now a thousand shredded tattered words. Lay upon the dirty and dusty floor. Such a scattered tattered mess that cuts you to your core. Now there is nothing left to say. These words, this chat, now swept away.
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