On the oppressions of my tyrannical heart,
and the agonies of revolt,
pages and pages over the years.
On the crossroads of your pain,
and mine,
very little.
On the horror of loss,
half a life time of it's ghost foreshadowed and it's lamenting hindsight ,
the words track in predictable tempo.
On the transparent suffering of interwoven humanity,
a cadence of silence,
and faint-hearted muteness.
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