the chatter box

There's the chatter box, the broken record
The automated script that runs itself
It prides itself on tangential logic
It spins and spins and spins
And spins again when the heart speaks--
When the heart says light, it plays itself and shows it darkness
When the heart says yes, it plays the many "whatifs" it's collected
When the heart wants action, it replays the broken past so skillfully
Oh my friends the voices-- do you know I no longer need you
Your empty sounds an echo against another time

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