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May 2019
when all the rooms are dim,
when all the crowds have thinned,
when all the thoughts that brimmed
have been by shadows pinned
against pride’s swollen rim,

when a quiet song is playing
from a radio relaying
static voices always saying
that never were they portraying
a world of only hurraying,

amid soft singing and late voices
are we not held against our choices?
yet in this the poet rejoices:

his soul’s words are yet unspoken;
no two works share the same tokens
through history’s line unbroken.
Written by
co'brien  21/M
(21/M)   
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