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a scream from within
swallowed while still going out
a solo voice against the wind
ending before it begins

a hollow echo
bread thrown across the waters
drenched and pulp-like
sodden and shapeless

there’s no one to hear
and even less who would listen
so it’s back to the mirror for now

a reflective monologue
scattered in all directions
dissipated even before it gathers

there is only me
I have only what is mine
whatever that is

but I raise my voice
in hope of a response
even an inarticulate sound
that I may know
that against the silence
and just perhaps
that I am not alone


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