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I know I am counted
I know how to count
I know how to count on
There is utterance of disgust
There is a vein of tremor
There is high and hollow sides
Half of what I said
Is already forgotten
Half of it is on the way to erasure
But whispers aside
My knowledge will speak for itself
My knowledge will speak for myself
Even when myself powdered thinner
Than the ores of iron and mines of sand
Though porous side of myself
Breaks now, then and there
My edges are born yet again
Even when the bones are shattered
You, my readers , are closer to my words, than the heart of my bearing body, a 1000 times broken, shielded and shivering, count me on, switch me on, stitch my split edge window panes, time to move on my glass houses
After the last sentence of my last word, will last the first utterance of my unborn silence, count me on, and 1000th piece of myself, knowing my willful word for you ….  Closer than my deceitful heart