She sings,
and with her tone
she knocks you down
and binds you with her vocal cords
and blinds your outward looking eyes.

She sings,
and from her throat
her own harmonic;
a euphony
of hitherto forgotten shades,
that bids you sleep,
...but sleep is doom.

She sings,
and in her song
a tender scream;
a plaintive wail
that bids you reach
and hold...
...there now
...there now
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