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Sep 2020
You wait for the silence.
Communication lost in
Translations unheeded.
Your tear saturated words
left to hang in the air
To be air dried and bleached
In the sunlight.
Look into their eyes and recognize
That iron wall of wilful ignorance.
You wait in the quiet moment
For some semblance of finality
Knowing that without your initiation
The end will never exist.
Tafuta Atarashī
Written by
Tafuta Atarashī  28/M/Chicago
(28/M/Chicago)   
  120
   S Michaels
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