When Words Have All Fallen Flat

The Bard repeats this:
"We are here gasping for air,
smothered by nothing."

My gift has returned
But its shelf life is nonsense
Its value abstract

Still worldbound here
Now the rest regret their choice
As they decompose

Becoming hollow
A regret intangible
Just beyond one's grasp

It will amplify
Becoming maddening noise
Before it is known

Nothing I can do
The same force they use to bind
Stays my helping hand

Nothing I will do
There are junctures where "punish"
Cannot stay a threat

Each threat a promise
Each promise kept in due time
Done when all have wept 

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