Silent Comfort

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Black ink from my reservoir pen,
twists on an uncontrolled surface.
Like a contorted vane too tired to revolve,
I compose in my head my last contentions.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

My demons were not effortless,
a dark coil inside of me needed to be released.
It was like lacerating a butterflies wings.
I hunger for you to know I never meant to cease.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.

I recognize I don't need your absolution, and you don't need mine.
Take every segment of me including my love, compassion and voice
and transmit it to the masses. 
Find solace that I am now where I need to be.

The last thing I wanted to do, was to hurt any of you.
For reasons you just can't see, the pressure was getting to me.