torn by my own being
Silence hangs, air is deathly
.
.
.
The silence breathly
thousands of my voices
They tear at my choices
~tear~
roughing--
till I
am
reduced
to nothing.
In the hush of solitude
when no soul lingers near
my own thoughts will rise
the loudest voice to hear
Copyright © Reya Suri | Year Posted 2025
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