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Kvothe Apr 13
A clipped voice,
slips noise-
lessly
into
the fray.

Yellow
and shaky.
Bland, I know.
I hate to
Say.

Butterfly
in a storm,
normally deep.
I crack,
lacking wingspan.

Headcave retreat.
Feet save
my mouth.
Because the wrong
thing ran.
How public speaking feels

— The End —