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Brigitta Sadam Poem
A Car drove past,
Radio screaming like it knew.
Bird landed on a brittle branch,
It doesn’t sing.
Wind blowing leaves,
But they don’t dance
Colours are fading,
Or is it blood?
Are we bleeding?
Everything is turning grey.
It’s cold – I hold my breath.
Where did the sun go?
Misery never left,
It watched, hushed.
Streets are empty
The water - still
Windows flicker with ghosts
Glass rain. Blood smear.
Is it all gone?
Are we alI gone?
Am I the thing behind the glass,
That won’t stop screaming?
Pretending not to see
what I’ve become.
Do you hear that?
Silence hisses at me:
Maybe you’re not here.
Maybe we never were.
Copyright © Brigitta Sadam | Year Posted 2025
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