In the vast expanse of

desolate inspiration,

I exist, days dissipate in

aimlessness,

staring into nothing

thinking of everything,

again,

paralyzed by the sheer

amount of pain

in the world

pain thet needs to be spoken

aloud,

yet pain that I can't

translate,

pain that refuses to be

defined by any

arrangement of the 26

letters I have been gifted

-Mia Mattern