What is there left to say?

When all the words are taken up.

When every sentence has already been said.

Guilt, lust, nerves, happiness, sickness, relief, 

writing always used to make these feelings better.

But what if there is nothing left to say?

What if...

What if every line has been used?

Every rhyme and phrase?

Every expression?

Nothing is new.

Nothing is our own.

What if we feel so alone?

So alone that conversation cannot cure us.

So alone that emotions take over and dominate from the inside. 

What if all the words I need to express this feeling are already taken?

But if someone has written it all before,

am I really so alone?