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Rated: E · Poetry · Other · #1692552
Something I wrote to make sense of my surroundings.
The ripples of the drops,
tossed to standing waters,
unprovoked disturbances,
their silence has been slaughtered,

The echos screaming out,
with a building urge to shout,
the birds have left their nests,
taking with them doubt,

The birds began to soar,
the ripples at their core,
now silence once again,
awaiting pain once more.


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