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Sia Harms
Poems
Feb 1
"O"
His mouth was a perfect ‘O’
Like the opening of a guitar,
But out of tune, dumbstruck.
There was nothing he could
Say, no words that his face
Hadn’t already expressed.
Where had he been all this
Time? To not notice the lies
Furnishing his own mouth?
Written by
Sia Harms
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