A pen quivering above a page,
a thought drips hesitantly, like sweat
in the heat of fear.
Water does not quench this,
the dry around my voice that
stops my sound
before it reaches the world.
When I reach into the heart of me,
my words lay covered
under a quilt of words
others have used to describe me,
a patchwork identity:
stupid, worthless,
asexual.
In...
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