Voiceless
Voiceless ..
Quietly, quiet
The rain falls above my exile -
Comply with my rightist
O my poems!
Till my optimum losses,
Stands on four legs,
And becomes a beast
In the sick night,
At the dusk
As if it gives me serenity
If I fed it pieces,
From the night and me!
Or it will drink the silence
From my cup and only watch!
Never know.
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