My words do not speak for me

I feel a little hollow sitting here by my open window,

The sun has set and the lights are on

Cold air seeps between the gap the window leaves.

I am alone again, in my room.

Am I hollow or am I made of glass, to be so see through?

Can you not see me because my mouth is closed?

If I open it words do not come out,

Only sounds that parody words

They do not speak for me.

If I could only write down everything that is required.

You’d understand my heart and not be so bored and tired.

A grown woman though cannot walk around,

With a whiteboard and some markers

Without drawing a crowd.

So I bring notepads, small ones easily hidden.

I’m just looking for a shopping list that’s never existed.

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