Each is part of me: of my heart, of my soul.
Some arrived with ease, while others came through tears and pain and love.
Yet all are my precious lexemic progeny.
Now many sweet beloveds must go.
As with their creation, some are exiled simply, while others scream and thrash.
They clutch at sentences, at paragraphs, at pages.
Will this book be better with them gone?
It will be within established guidelines and more publishable.
But could meaning and flavor be enfeebled?
I feel removing these words is necessary.
But every single deleted letter is torture.
Washed with my tears.
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