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Paper Jam
They left me with an empty pocket
And a suffocating necktie, still knotted,
As if the role could outlive the truth,
As if silence were part of the job.
A fractured pen lay on the desk,
Ink splattered where promises once were;
Their words had always sounded whole,
Until they no longer needed to be.
The clunking printer kept running,
With smudged paper jammed inside;
But even the screeching door behind me
Knows better than to close quietly.
