A letter to the broken-hearted dregs at the bottom of everyone's attention; I promise this won't solve your problems.

 

Can you inhabit a word. Can you become the description you fully deserve. 

Can the lines between you and what you say blur.

Can you embody speech and give it form. Can the countless syllables that carry meaning carry you when you're reborn. 

Can you personify the image that they aspire to capture.

Can you merge with the very essence of expression and be known for nothing after. 

Can you obliterate synonyms and become an anomaly. 

Can you transcend your most decadent nature and rise above normalcy.