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Dec 2015
To most,
It meant little,
Enough to sound elegant.

But only four,
Understood,
Truly how hard it was,
To rest my fingers on those keys,
Calm my frantic heart,
And dive into song.

The taste of truth,
On my tongue,
And the silver silk of sorrow,
That was tied around my wrists,
Fell to the concert hall floor.
Parsavagely Kompenere
Written by
Parsavagely Kompenere  19/F/Yorkshire
(19/F/Yorkshire)   
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