words only come easy when i'm not involved
no words
worms
i hear voicing calling out defenses for my lack
he worked through things like worms slowly and surely breaking down soil into meaning
he may not have been prolific but he struggled under forces heavy enough to catapult himself far away
he may not have changed the world but his one goodness proves himself a member of the satisfactory elite, the ones who changed hearts enough to matter
he sees the words that ring his doorbell standing outside in the cold rain and never did he wish for them anything but the dry glow of greatness
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