Where are the eyes 
to see this thing, to 
hear it cry, to watch it 
work its way dying 
through the silence 
of the eye and out 
onto testament of 
speaking I am 
still human, still 
alive after your vinegar 
your bile, my 
bitterness of one.  You 
were there to take me 
down, shorn and bare 
as I was.
You watched 
impassively as I 
died.  You knew 
nothing of my agony 
but helped to 
undo the leavings and 
place it in the rock. 
I had to become
the first stone 
but wanted someone 
human to page my 
existence and my 
pain, my blood 
flowing, to see and hear 
through my wordless cry 
my silence speaking.
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