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Dec 2016
The sounds that circle my head are cluttered.
Somehow still always frightening, the way
they flash and scream like thunder,
storm like winter, surge like warfare fighting
to be heard above each other, the voices
that circle relentlessly, cold and lingering.
Trumpet full-blast, bassline
vibrating, floorboards shaking, ears
popping amongst this scream of fears,
engines whirring, earthquakes and
volcanoes and eruptions ever-deafening-
except here.
Except now.
With you, the volume’s turned down.
Martha O'Brien
Written by
Martha O'Brien  UK
(UK)   
352
 
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