inherited silence

an inherited
silence
fills the room
as i strum
the strings of
a ukulele
i never learned
to play
convincing myself
these rampant
urges to end
this murky facade
are just a phase
the depression
multiplying
the headache
and the premise
of keeping on
keeping on
feels as hollow
as the now
broken ukulele
softly singing
along with
fugazi about
waiting rooms
losing my patience
leaving just
a sad little boy
with more
nothingness
than he can possibly
occupy alone
as the swollen
inherited silence
the only thing
tangible
he ever embraced
from hands
that never
quite learned
to love

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