The echo of the emptiness
is deafening
when you're forced
to sit still long enough
to listen
the pin-drop of betrayal
the scrape of self-deception
the clatter of realization
that only I am to blame
for the disappointment
befallen me
I pushed away the truth
like Atlas trying
to toss the world off his shoulders
never quite becoming free of it
the veracity of reality
that I know everyone
but me
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