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Exquisitely Forlorn
Poems
Sep 2012
The Noise
The Noise, it drills through me as if I have become the subject of the vicious hammer.
Its piercing din never fades.
As silence looms, and the stillness of nothing hums
It soon begins again.
The sharpness suffocates me, smothers me, chokes me.
And then itβs too late. You chose her and your words destroy me.
Written by
Exquisitely Forlorn
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