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idiosyncrasy
Poems
Jan 2020
crescent moons in my hands
i used to look like a whisper
soft and fragile
barely more than silence
trying so hard not to disturb
afraid to break
now when people look at me, they see a scream
loud and unforgiving
filling the space with indignation
no pauses, no hesitation
breaking everything
but i can't see me. i can just listen.
i sound like fingernails biting palms
#alskdjf
#****
Written by
idiosyncrasy
16/Androgynous/in the footnotes
(16/Androgynous/in the footnotes)
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