The mental walls to the outside
world grow thicker with age.
Expression is limited to the
cauterized emotion-centers in the
brain.
These hands though, I know they
have the power to write the soul into
the machine. This voice I know
could sing the world's end. I am
barely there in some instances of
the day. Oh to see it all; all of
the unfading undying creation,
and to comprehend it.
[23:08|02.12.011] ©c.thomas.carter
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